The Bat
by LJ58
Summary: Sometime in the future, Batman has disappeared, and Gotham struggles to hold out against the darkness that now returns to threaten his city. But a shadow has suddenly returned to cover the city as The Bat seems to have returned. What lies ahead now?
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own Batman, or the DC characters named within. I am borrowing them for an AU telling of a possible future scenario. _

_**THE BAT: **_

_**Return of the Bat**_

_**By LJ58**_

It had been almost twenty years since anyone had seen the once familiar shadow of the bat over the skies of Gotham City. Once, it meant the city's greatest hero was being summoned to face some danger even the cops could not handle alone. If at all.

That had been twenty years ago.

Almost every surviving citizen in Gotham knew of _the_ night. The night when the Bat did not answer. He had simply faded into the shadows that had spawned him without a word. There had been no climatic battle that might have left the hero injured, or even bordering on death. There was no warning. Nothing. Just that one night when he did not respond to the Bat-signal, as the press had taken to calling it then.

For a few months, less than a year, there were others. The daring, new Batgirl, the intrepid Robin, and even the more boisterous Nightwing had returned to patrol Gotham for a time. Still, in the end, they, too went their way. Batgirl simply disappeared, too. Robin went to the Titans, and turned his attention to other matters. Nightwing was a hero in his own right, with another city under his protection.

Just a few months after _that_ night, Gotham's greatest protectors had simply left. Without warning. Without justification as far as its citizens were concerned. They had simply gone.

That had been twenty years ago.

Max "Millionaire" Mahoney knew that like a scientific fact. He had come of age in that year when the Bat's shadow had faltered, and failed. He knew exactly when the cesspit of Gotham's sewers had once more run over their banks to threaten to bury the city. He knew, because he had a large share in the cesspit, controlling almost a full fifth of the human filth that lived off Gotham's more honest and upright citizens.

What he couldn't understand was why he was dangling upside down, looking up at a tall, shadowy figure that looked very much like the Bat his uncle used to rail about for hours when he wasn't in stir.

Of more immediate concern was the forty foot drop directly below him as he looked down at the dizzying vista before he looked back up at cold, empty eyes that stared down at him from out of that black cowl that was more than mask, or even face. A thin, humorless lip cut a cruel slash across the lower jaw that was just barely visible as Max looked with utmost concern at the hand holding his ankle in a painful grip.

"I can….let you go," the shadowy figure rasped in a voice that sounded like ground glass and gravel grating, "Or we can have a nice chat, Mahoney. Your choice," the fathomless eyes narrowed just so, and Max felt his bladder twinge, and suddenly knew just why Uncle Jake had been scared straight in the end.

"What….What do you want to talk about," he babbled, not wanting to make this impossible phantom angry.

The man in the shapeless cape and grim cowl said nothing at first. Then he nodded in some grim manner as if he were one of those morons down on Garden Street that heard voices in their head. "All right, Mahoney. First, who is behind the recent hit on the mayor?" "I don't…..! No," he screeched as he felt that hand slowly loosen its grip, and his ankle slide just an inch before the hand tightened again. Incredibly, the shadow-man didn't show any sign of fatigue, and his arm stuck out as if he could hold him by his foot all night if he wished.

"Try again. Who is behind the hit?" "It was Cobblepot," he all but shrieked, not caring that he had just violated the one rule of criminal coexistence that even Gothamites adhered to in these colder, crueler times. "That birdbrain thinks getting rid of Gordon will clear the way for him to run unimpeded."

"He still controls the Narrows, and he's trying to take over the Black Mask gang that has resurfaced. Is that correct," the shadow demanded, his lips barely moving, his voice grating almost painfully in Max's ears.

"Y-Yeah. He's got caught up in his dreams of glory lately. Trying to relieve the old days. He thinks he can take over the whole city from the mayor's office without…..without……" The hand jerked him up, then both hands caught his favorite tailored, silk jacket, and pulled Max up to within inches of the shadow-man's face.

"Without _me_, Mahoney," the faceless man rasped. "I'm letting you go. This time. But only so you can tell Cobblepot, and all the rest that I'm back. And I'm shutting you all down this time. For good. And, Mahoney," the cold-eyed creature rasped as he simply dropped Mahoney on the roof in the sticky tar, and other refuse that covered the rooftop of the old skyscraper where Max had woke up to find his dream of soft-skinned beauties had turned to nightmares.

"Y-Yeah," he rasped, looking up from his ruined suit as the boot of the man in black stepped onto the narrow railing, fearlessly perched on the edge of the abyss before him.

"Retire," the creature rasped as huge, black wings spread out from the shadow-man's back, and he flew out over the city like a huge…..bat.

Max felt cold fear race up and down his spine as he forgot everything but his need to survive. He raced for the rooftop door, wanting only to get back to his own penthouse, and barricade himself in his own secure fortress.

Even as he raced down the steps, he tried very hard not to think he had been sleeping off a drunken celebration after one of his biggest deals ever in that secure penthouse just before he had woke up to find himself dangling over the city.

He grimaced as he remembered those cold, empty eyes, and the threat in those simple, curt commands. He could imagine the old 'Penguin's' response to his claims if he called the crime lord and told him the Bat was back. And that he looked as young, and strong as he had ever been.

Still, he would warn his…..

Not friends. Never that. His cohorts, perhaps. Then, maybe a vacation was in order. A long vacation, someplace out of town. Maybe out of the country. Even as he ran down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator, he screamed for a taxi, and gave him his address as the Mex driver gaped at him in confusion. Max's was a known face in his neighborhood. He ran vice in this part of town. Or he did.

Maybe he would do more than take a vacation. Yeah. Maybe he would retire. He was a real millionaire, after all. Years of peddling whores, crack, and any other vice the masses wanted, or could pay for had seen to that.

Yeah, he'd retire. Let someone else take the heat. Uncle Jake had the right idea after all, he decided. You just did not mess with the Bat. Not unless you liked extended stays in the pen. Usually in traction for most of the time.

To a man like Max, who reveled in his fit, masculine image, he had no wish to see how far down the ladder he could slip. He certainly didn't want to end up on another rooftop staring down at the city he had helped fleece for so long.

It was definitely time to get out.

_**B**_

"You're crazy," the portly old man spat as he slammed down the receiver, and spun his padded chair around from his desk to stare out over the vista he had of the city from his current perch. Twenty years of graft, and plotting behind the scenes without that annoying rodent had helped make Oswald a very rich man. With that old crow Barbara Gordon out of the mayor's chair, and that incompetent moron Drake in the district attorney's chair, he could all but walk into office, and _own _this city in just a few weeks time.

He had it all planned.

Perfectly planned. Like all his deals, above, or below the table.

Only two nights ago, the hit on Gordon had been botched. His hit man had disappeared, and he had no clue what had happened beyond the fact he had failed, and security was tighter than ever around that woman's office, and home.

Now Max Mahoney, that small-minded thug with an expensive suit, had called babbling about the Bat. He knew that demon as well as anyone, and he knew it couldn't be him. Hell, he had practically put him in the ground a few times himself. Then there was that episode with Bane, and lunacy with that green-haired idiot someone had finally strapped in the chair after they brought back the death penalty. It had taken a toll on his seemingly inhuman foe.

No one else saw it, but he did.

The Bat was slowing down towards the end. Getting old. He pulled out his second stringers, and used more of his toys than ever, but in the end, that old nemesis likely put himself in the ground from the sheer intensity of the private war he had been waging to little avail. Not that Oswald minded. But he was not going to sit here and be a good little bird while some pretender showed back up playing Halloween in _his_ town again.

Probably one of those annoying little bird-boys the freak had cultivated over the years. Maybe one had come back to try to prove something to himself, or someone else. He didn't know, but he was going to deal with this thorn in his side before it grew any larger.

Swinging his chair back around, he picked up the phone, and punched a code for a number that technically did not exist.

"Ivy, this is….."

He cringed as the shrill voice of the bitch on the other end.

"Shut up, and listen, babe, or we're both going to lose. I just got a tip we have a pretender in town trying to bring back the Bat. Now, neither of us wants that. Do we? So, what say you do your thing, and lure the would-be hero out where we can rip off his wings, and do unspeakable things to him," he chortled darkly, his gray eyes glittering with malice behind the thick glasses he was now forced to wear rather than his once stylish monocle.

"Listen, girly. You may not think so right now, but once he knocks off the big boys on the block, provided he gets that far, who do you think he's going to be coming after next? You did put a nice big target on your shapely backside when you took over Gotham Park, and declared it your private territory. Even the mayor went along with you, but do you think this nut job will if he's looking to bring back the Bat we all knew, and despised? That's right. Now, I think a little cooperation here is in our best interest. So this is what I was thinking. I'll send you over a dozen of my best men….."

He listened again, and sighed. "All right. All right. You've proven you can handle yourself often enough since you, ah, budded. But I'll have men waiting all the same. Just in case," he said, and hung up the phone.

He sighed heavily as he turned back to the vista of the city outside his penthouse that was cloaked in shadows just now. It was late, but dawn was still hours away. He sighed again, doing his best to ignore the faint ache in his chest that was starting to concern him more of late. He wanted….needed the mayor's office if he was going to leave a lasting legacy behind him. And like the original Bat, he was getting no younger.

Not like that freak job Ivy who never seemed to age. If anything, she only got more and more sensual, and more and more deadly. Even the police stayed out of her way these days, which explained why they let her have Gotham Park. The last time the police, backed by the Guard, had tried to confront her, half had ended up dead or dying, and the other half had ended up screwing one another silly before the toxins the woman had released had dissipated.

He still remembered the chagrin of some of those big, tough soldier, and cops. Gender had not mattered when they had gone into hyper-arousal. They had simply stripped, and grabbed the closest body standing next to them. Unfortunately for many of them, they literally did screw themselves to death.

Not that Oswald shed any tears for them. He just wished Ivy would give him the formula for that particular toxin. With his arms contacts, he could make a fortune on a bio-weapon that could incapacitate whole armies, or police forces.

Or cities.

Ivy, unfortunately, had become even more misanthropic than ever as she had aged. Only women had any chance around her now. Frankly, Oswald had been taking a chance even calling the woman, but he had counted on her enmity with the Bat to override any anger she might turn on him.

Besides, what could she do to him now? He was an old man. His only real fear was that he was going to die before he made his legacy a reality. And he simply was not going to allow that to happen. He had survived the gang wars, the Bat's endless campaigns, and age itself. He was not going to yield now. He would never yield, unless it was on his terms. At his own time.

_**B**_

The sleek, almost rocket-shaped vehicle roared into the underground complex, its turbines dying with a shrill whine even as the floor beneath it began to rotate to aim its armored nose back toward the exit before the single occupant rose from the transport with a fluid grace.

"I see the field test went well," a still lean, muscular man of some forty years commented as the caped man leapt out of the vehicle, and stalked toward the row of massive supercomputers that lined one wall in the long unused cave.

"Yes," the man nodded as he pulled off the cowl revealing a familiar face. Or one that might have been familiar some thirty-odd years ago. It was the face of a much younger Bruce Wayne. The eyes. however, showed an age and experience that no one of his apparent age should know. "As I suspected," he said as he turned to the patient redhead at Dick's side. "Penguin was behind the assassination attempt. Mahoney gave it up."

"We heard," Richard Grayson nodded at the computers as he spoke, the woman saying nothing.

"Right," the rejuvenated Batman nodded as he reloaded the utility belt, and hidden pockets in his black, armored bodysuit. "I also had a complete uplink with the Crays on command, too. The cybernetic systems are functioning better than I anticipated."

"This is still….unreal," Barbara told him as she turned her wheelchair around to face him. "I mean, I know you're Bruce. But….."

"Bruce Wayne is dead," the man growled with an impassive face. "Only Batman remains now."

"Yeah, well, from what we managed to overhear from Cobblepot and Mahoney's private lines, you put a real scare into them. Mahoney is arranging to leave town, and our old friend is bringing Poison Ivy out of her private paradise to deal with you."

"Ivy, is it," he murmured with a grim eagerness neither cared to hear just then. "I anticipated no less," the resurrected Bruce drawled. "I'm going to be busy for the next few days," he told Richard Grayson. "Give Mahoney one day's head start, and then cut off his lifeline. I want every dollar he ever extorted, stole, or made from his illegal activities funneled out of his accounts, and into the charities I left listed."

"I can handle that," Barbara told him as she cast an envious look at the tall, seemingly invulnerable man that stood before her. "I can use the private computer Oracle once used for…..things, and make sure he can't track his money, or stop it from disappearing."

"Good. I'm going to the park."

"Tonight," Richard gaped. "Now?" "If I strike now, before either Penguin, or Ivy can be prepared for my coming, the advantage remains mine."

"Just like the old days," Barbara sighed as the grim hero replaced his cowl, and leapt into the newly designed stealth vehicle he employed as the new Batmobile.

"More than you know," Richard nodded at her. "Only I'm still a bit concerned. I know it's Bruce in that thing. I mean….."

"Alien cybernetics are way out of my league, too," Barbara told him as the transport's engine whined to life once more before it just seemed to explode into motion, leaving the cave so fast it was almost as if the powerful vehicle just vanished. "But I won't say I'm not a little envious," she admitted.

"Yeah," Richard nodded, holding up his prosthetic left arm. "Still, is it really our Bruce in there anymore? I've watched him for the past few years working on this, ah, project of his, and while obsession is hardly new to him….."

"That goes without saying," Barbara laughed.

"I'm still not sure he was ready to go public just yet."

"I won't say I don't share your concerns, but I'm glad he showed up when he did, or I'd be dead now."

"That's the only reason I tipped him off. When the word came in that a known assassin was in town. I figured it had to be someone big if the underworld bosses were hiring out of town."

Barbara smiled up at him from her chair, and told him, "I'm going to have to find a way to thank you both properly after this is over."

"Over," Richard frowned, though he smile through it, remembering just how Barbara used to think him. Even trapped in her wheelchair, Barbara Gordon, who had never wed after all these years, made a beautiful picture with that still vibrant red hair falling about her shoulders, and accenting the heavy swell of her full, round breasts that were still her second best feature. To him, those beautiful, expressive eyes were always best.

He sighed, and shook his head. "As much as I look forward to it, Barb, I have the sinking feeling this is not going to be over anytime soon."

"Then we'll just have to make time for ourselves, won't we," she offered, putting a hand on his prosthetic limb, and smiling.

"Just like the old days," he smiled, his anticipation obvious since it was all but staring her in the face as his brown slacks tented as he remembered some of those old days.

"Not quite, but we can dream," she told him with a wistful glance at her lifeless lower limbs.

"Always," he told her, and leaned down to kiss her fourth best attributes, those full, pouting lips that were always ripe, and ready for him.

"How did I ever let you get away," he sighed as he broke their embrace with a soft moan.

"I don't recall being the one to run off with the Titans. Or carrying on with that green-eyed alien. The one that ran off and apparently married another alien girl before disappearing into….."

"Okay, okay. You made your point," he groaned as he held up his hands in surrender.

"I was always here, Dick," she told him with the same sweet smile. "I'm still here." "Well, I'm back, and this time, I'm not going anywhere," he told her, and leaned to kiss her again.

"Touching," came a curt comment over the computer's communication link that was still open. "Now if you're about finished with renewing your reproductive dance, how about getting to work? We still need to identify whoever has been putting Oswald in touch with out of town talent. And don't forget we still have three other kingpins to bring down."

"Gotcha," Dick replied nonchalantly, then closed the link as he shared a blush with Barbara.

_**B**_

Pamela Ivy was once a very normal woman. An environmental activist that used her own research to try to make the world a better place, and save what was left of a rapidly declining ecosystem. Then came the betrayal, the unforeseen accident, and a mixture of chemicals that should have been lethal.

Well, actually they were. Just not to her.

Somehow, her blood and tissue interacted with the untried serums she was working on, and turned her into a living embodiment of Mother Nature at her bitchiest. Or that was how some callous media reporter had once described her.

Right before she slowly flailed him alive in front of his own camera with a tough vine of thorns she 'birthed.' It was the only way she could describe what she was able to do. Her mind and will just reached into the green around her, and she birthed that which she needed, or wanted.

Such as the virtually impenetrable wall of tree-sized vines complete with thorns that now blockaded the once beleaguered park from the rest of the city. It had once been a filthy sty that had threatened the natural greenery, and a haven for the worst kind of thugs. Now, she roamed its lush, natural beauty alone, and tried not to think of how alone her 'dream' had left her.

True, after years of playing the petty criminal, she came to the realization that she was getting nowhere, and her precious natural world was suffering all the more. Ironically, at the very moment she began to consider changing her tactics, and actively cultivating her own dreamed of paradise, her longtime nemesis Batman simply disappeared. At first she was sure it was a ruse. He was good at ruses. He was good at many things. An uncanny sense of timing, for instance.

Yet the days passed, and the nights, and her dark-clad nemesis did not reappear. Not even when she killed those that came in his place. Not even when she held the city hostage, and demanded the park as her own. Not even after that ridiculous orgy of eroticism and death that even she had realized had gotten a little out of hand. Still, the Bat did not show. Not even a hint of his grim demeanor cast a shadow over what should have been her ultimate triumph.

As she walked carelessly through the moonlit paradise she had created of the parklands, she wondered why it was that the telephones in the park still worked. She wondered, too, why she had been oddly eager as she lifted the nearest receiver when it seemed they all rang at once around her for the first time in many years only to hear the loathsome rasp of that petty tyrant Cobblepot. His audacity had angered her at first, startling her out of a long, senseless Winter of near insensate existence.

Then he had mentioned _him_.

She had been skeptical, of course. Who wouldn't be after so many years? Even if he were alive, he would be ancient. Well, older. Certainly not the prime, physical specimen she had come to grudgingly admire even as she faced him each time, hoping that this time, she would be the victor, and prove her way was best. Was superior.

But he outwitted her, outfought her, outthought her at every turn.

In a manner of speaking, she had come to think that he had even defeated her in the end by simply not bothering to counter her sudden change in tactics, and leaving her to her own, comfortless dream. She sighed, walking the green, lush meadows of the central park beyond the trees, and wondering what she should do about this pretender. There was little doubt he was a pretender in her mind. One of the bat-brats grown up, and finally deciding to take _his_ mantle. She had little doubt of that. For he was obviously long since gone.

She stopped to stare up at the moon, having heard a soft, achingly familiar rustle in the green, and looking for some sign of his return. Of course, she knew it wasn't him. Still, if even for a moment, she could pretend.

"Ivy," came a low, growling voice that echoed in her nightmares, and her dreams.

The shapely, green-clad redhead spun to face the shadow that detached itself from the trees, and walked fearlessly toward her.

She studied the seemingly empty sockets, the grim, resolute jaw with that characteristic slash as his lips turned into a thin, almost cruel line that barely broke the plain of his exposed jaw. It was him. The ultimate predator had returned. Yet he radiated youth and strength as never before, and with her senses attuned to all about him, she would know. It was him, and yet…..he was too young.

"Bat….man," came the soft, almost sensual rasp of her breath, her eyes glittering with anticipation as she turned to him.

The tall, caped figure simply stopped before her, standing resolute, unmoved.

Never mind that she had just released enough endorphin-laced pheromones to put an elephant in heat. He simply stood there, untouched, and indifferent to her purely sexual invitation.

Which was what that runt Oswald never understood. She didn't make her toxins. She conjured them out of the depths of her own transformed DNA. Her unique mingling of animal and plant genetics had given her mastery over both. She simply preferred the flora to the fauna of the world.

"How," she began, knowing instinctively, that however impossible it seemed, that this was him, and he was back.

"I know your tricks, Ivy," came the answering growl as she shifted restlessly, feeling a vague sense of unease, and yet was unable to summon any defense to her side as he stalked inexorably toward her. "In all these years, you're still the same, frustrated female that used the same ploys over, and over again hoping someone would figure out what I now know."

"What…..What is that," she demanded when he paused again, now just inches from her, looking down on her like a stern father about to reprimand his wayward daughter.

The smile was far from sympathetic. Far from warm. It was a mask of triumph as a gloved hand reached out and wrapped cruelly around her neck, keeping her from withdrawing if the thought even occurred to her.

"That, you, Ivy, have been denying your own innate, and demanding instincts since the beginning of this farcical conflict. That you were wanting a mate to fulfill your own reproductive instincts," he growled, and her green eyes rounded hugely as his fathomless orbs burned into her own.

"You…."

"Isn't that right, Pamela," he murmured her name with a tone that sent a surge of pure, animal lust through her body.

"You….. You.….."

"I know exactly what you need," he told her solemnly as that hand on her nape pulled her too-red, poisonous lips toward his own.

Full, ripe lips that kept the world at bay, that killed all who dared trespass, were suddenly pressed against his thin, masculine mouth that meshed and melded with her own fearlessly. She gasped, drawing breath though her delicate, flared nostrils as she felt the hunger of an entire world suddenly amplified in her still, all-too-frail form, and her slender arms wound about the caped intruder who had returned to torment her yet again.

This time, he used her own empty heart, and unsated desires against her with ruthless efficiency. She wasn't sure how he was resisting the deadly touch that was her very essence now, but he did so even as he plunged his tongue between her lips, probing her warm, moist cavity with a hunger that rivaled her own. She returned his kiss in full when she realized he was not withdrawing, not withering, or dying, and let her own tongue duel with the intruder as she moaned in full, sexual blossom as her body began to realize that there truly was a potential mating in its immediate future.

Her hands moved restlessly over the hard, armored plains of his chest, stroking his sides, and moving occasionally to simply embrace him, almost content to simply be held as his own grip at her neck relaxed, and his other hand joined its mate to roam, and stroke her own hungry, and aroused body.

She felt voluptuously rounded breasts some had mocked as patently false swell even more as her nipples thickened, and throbbed with the universal need to feed. Be it her hunger, or her potential offspring, her body was reacting just as nature insisted it should, and she moaned again as she realized Batman's hands were not just stroking her body, they were stripping her.

She felt her full, heavy breasts suddenly spring free, their natural buoyancy making them spring up even as the green garment that had held them in place was tugged insistently downward. She sighed as she felt the cool night air tease her naked flesh even as her nemesis, and lover now pulled her close against him, pressing the aching nubs of her bared flesh into the hardness of his warm body that radiated heat despite that thick armor.

Which was when she discovered another amazing detail.

Her lover, long renowned for his utter, and ruthless control of his own flesh, and spirit, was obviously hard, and pressing back against her liquid core as her heat began to pool in that small vee of flesh where it would do the most good. She could literally smell herself as much as she could smell him, and only then did she realize that somehow, incredibly, her longtime adversary had used her own weapons against her. She could now sense his own pheromones. Feel his heat, and all but tasted the need to procreate that emanated from his hard, masculine form.

She, Poison Ivy, ironically a longtime virgin, had been overwhelmed at her own game.

She moaned as he finally broke their kiss, feeling a cold surge of fear and disappointment as he pushed her away, his forbidding expression completely unaltered, and she almost wept as she feared he would leave her in this state even as he knelt before her in the ultimate gesture of male submission. Yet as he pulled her attire down the firm, round globes of her bottom, and on down the slender, yet muscular legs to pool at her feet, she realized he was only taking this dance to its next step.

She cried out in blissful agony as his firm, demanding lips were pressed to the musky slit that flowered open for him in that instant when Pamela, the long denied virgin, mentally gave up all control to the male that knelt before her, now thrusting his hot, insistent tongue into her fiery flesh. Technically a virgin despite the many artifices she had tried to employ to gain pleasure, and sate her natural instinct for completion, she had never truly felt a man as she now felt _him_ as he tasted and tormented her as one.

All her dreams and nightmares curled into one mad shriek as a gloved finger joined his tongue, and the digit slid into her and found a place even she had been unaware of until that moment. She bathed his face in her venomous discharge, but still the dark knight lapped, and teased her, completely untouched by her venomous nature.

Her knees buckled even as he thrust a second finger into her, stretching her as even her toys and plants had never done, and she realized she had been playing silly games compared the earnest gravity of her nemesis' seduction. Without breaking stride, he had pulled her costume from her tangled feet, her boots already gone somehow, and left her sprawled out on the green carpet she had made of a once near blighted wasteland, with only the baleful eye of the moon gazing down upon her.

She cried out as he intensified his efforts, using fingers, lips, tongue to drive her nearly mad with blissful agony as she arched her hips to communicate her increasingly urgent need as her desires began to build, and crest, and build all the more without showing sign of abating.

And then he was gone.

Looking up, she feared abandonment all the more this time as he seemed to tower over her even as he knelt before her, no longer looking the slightest bit submissive even in her mind's eyes as pleaded with him to finish what he had begun. She heard a low, growling chortle of masculine triumph, and then he moved again. She fixed her eyes on the living shadow that suddenly rose over her, and then all but howled as she felt him descend again, this time stretching her with a veritable club as she felt a hard, obviously male organ thrust into her body for the first time in her long, empty life.

She screamed, literally screamed, and knew a completion unlike any she could have ever imagined as she felt him bury his shaft deep in her forbidden sheath with a single, hard plunge that had her shaking in ecstasy as her climax shattered her will, and numbed her very mind.

And still he was not finished with her.

The shadows that now moved over her shifted, and she felt a surge of new delight as the thick, blunt club filling her began to move rhythmically in her liquid flesh, reminding her she was, at heart, still human as she knew now he would never finish until he had completed the most universal, and primitive act Nature demanded of such mating. She clung to his body as he forced himself ever deeper, for that was how it seemed to the overcome villainess what had completely yielded to her arch-rival who now dominated her completely as he filled her too long empty womb with every thrust.

She had been truly defeated this time. Even she knew that. Her hips writhed, and arched to meet every thrust, and she knew now it was more than mere animal hunger. More than an instinctive need to mate. She had met her rival, and he was her master. She cried out again as he forced overpowering waves of sheer lust and delight onto her once empty flesh.

There they remained for what felt an eternity as he drove her firm body into the soft grass, his breath mingling with hers as he teased, and kissed, and stroked her in endless fashion until she sensed his coming climax after experiencing an endless parade of her own breathtaking orgasms. Even when he began to spill his scalding seed deep into her belly, filling her womb with life, she felt the long, endless rutting had been too short. She wanted more. Far more.

"I'm yours," she simply cooed up at him as she lay spent, and sated beneath him, putting a gentle hand to the hard, unyielding jaw as that unforgiving visage stared down at her with typical masculine pride, and triumph.

And she didn't mind one bit.

"Get dressed," he ordered her as he rose from atop her after a moment, showing no signs of their frantic, feverish coupling save for a faint trace of her glistening juices around his lips he had yet to wipe away.

"Are you….taking me back to Arkham," she asked quietly as she reached reluctantly toward the discarded uniform she had once worn akin to armor. For what man could have penetrated it to reach the woman beneath the poisonous veil?

She now knew.

As she had always instinctively known, she realized as she slowly pulled on the distinctive garment of Poison Ivy. No, just plain Pamela Ivy.

"No," he told her in the same forbidding manner she was well used to by now. It was as if he were unmoved by their sudden, and unexpected coupling. As if it meant nothing to him.

"What do you intend to do then," she asked, unable to banish the tears that welled in her bright green eyes like fresh dew on the morning grass.

He stared grimly at her, then reached out and touched her cheek.

"I will give you a second chance. If you will ally yourself with me, and the city, rather than standing against us."

"Anything," she blurted out, and meant it as she impulsively flung herself against him, feeling the same hard, unyielding body that had driven her mad with pleasure that still throbbed in her

"Open the park to the citizens of Gotham for starters," he commanded her, and she nodded against his chest, one finger tracing the dark sigil of the bat that had replaced the yellow oval that once adorned his chest. "The honest citizens," he stressed.

"I will," she promised. "And I'll protect them, too." "Which I expected all the same," he drawled as he looked down into her smiling visage as she beamed up at him like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Only her girlish hopes and anticipations that had died stillborn in that destroyed laboratory had never felt this good.

"No more deaths," he added as he broke free of her, and turned back toward the trees.

"Wait," she cried out when he kept going, already starting to meld with the shadows around them as the moon now seemed to hide behind a growing bank of gray clouds as if at his command. "Will I see you again," she all but begged, one hand reaching toward him.

"Yes," he told her, and disappeared into the shadows as she smiled after him, feeling content for the first time since she had woke up to find herself a genetic hybrid that no man could resist. And no man could touch.

Except one, she added as she did not even ponder how her lover had managed to breach her defenses. Those around her private paradise, as well as those around her heart. He was _the _Batman, she knew. That was enough.

_**B**_

"Where have you been," Richard almost shouted into the link when the speakers crackled with life after hours of foreboding silence. "It's been hours."

"Don't worry about it," came the curt reply. "I'm going to check on something else, and then I'll be coming back."

"What about Ivy," Barbara asked, just as apprehensive as Dick, since she knew full well what that deadly siren's abilities were. She had once spent three weeks in a narcotic haze in a local brothel thanks to that red-haired bitch. It was only sheer luck that Dick, as Robin, had found her, and managed to keep her then secret identity secret.

"She's been neutralized. And you can announce to the city that the park is once more open, and safe for Gothamites," came the short, uninformative reply before the channel was closed again.

"You're right," Barbara glowered as she looked at the console as if it were somehow at fault. "Not much has changed." "No, one thing has. I'm still worried about Bruce."

"Maybe if I knew more about what happened to him," she asked suggestively.

"That's just it. I don't know. All he told me was that he encountered an alien race on League business, and that he's been working with them all this time."

"And they just gave him that…..cybernetically enhanced body as a parting gift," she asked doubtfully.

"Exactly. He's been down here for the past decade testing himself, putting himself through all the usual paces since. He was uncertain about returning until he knew his body was…..reliable, as he put it. I think he was also doing a few enhancements of his own, though. I don't know. Like I said, secretive and obsessive. Some things _didn't _change."

"Right," Barbara nodded. "I rather noticed that myself already."

_**B**_

The shadow of the Bat loomed large as the regenerated hero spread a cape that was more parasail than cosmetic camouflage now. The technology wasn't that new, but its application and design were perfected by the alien species that he had spent almost ten years helping on League business before he finally won his freedom. Won, because the species he had sided with had been captives along with him, and a few other heroes who had not made it back. He had helped form a core of resistance among the literal slave colony where he had been deposited after he had been captured after a pitched battle in space. Subversion, and intelligence were the same on any planet, and his new allies soon realized they had a formidable comrade in the smooth-skinned alien that walked among them.

Their mutual enemy learned too late he was not a being to be underestimated. In less than a year after he had been captured, he had an active resistance formed on the prison colony where he was held. In just four years, the colony was in the hands of his allies, and a true rebellion had been sparked. Six years, and they were winning back whole worlds. In just nine, the alien system was liberated, and the invaders pushed back with crippling losses.

The campaign had not been waged without taking its toll on him, though. Unlike the silicon-based life forms he fought alongside, he was much more easily injured. More than once he had faced a lonely death out in space fighting a war ironically as familiar to him as the streets of Gotham. There had been three other heroes with him that did not make it. Still, he soon learned his allies had unexpected talents.

Each time he was wounded, their technical skills healed him so dramatically that it seemed almost miraculous even to him who had seen some truly amazing, and miraculous events in his already astonishing life. When he was in danger of dying before he could even consider making it home from simple age constraints, they offered him a new body. Familiar with Metallo, and similar creatures who lapsed into madness when they realized what they had lost to gain power, he was ready to refuse, and would have accepted a more dignified end out there, had it not been for a practical demonstration.

His new cybernetic enhancements meshed easily with a regenerated body that was still his own, but made his skin tougher, his muscles stronger, and his reaction time and reflexes even sharper than they had ever been at his peak. The regenerated body he now occupied also had a much longer lifespan. Where Bruce Wayne at his prime might have expected sixty, or seventy years of life given the demands of his alter ego, the newly improved Bat had a potential lifespan equated in centuries. Quite a few of them. Apparently, his allies saw aging as just another disease to be eradicated.

He used his cowl's cybernetic enhancements in conjunction with his own much improved eyesight to study the rooftop of the Gotham Aviary where Oswald's penthouse jutted up out of the domed structure like a defiant fist. He knew his old enemy had always had a thing for flaunting his power and presence. As when he had even dared make contact with an envoy of Apocalypse left stranded some years ago after the League had drove the dark tyrant Darkseid off their world. His would-be weapons smuggling empire had threatened the stability of the entire region, not to mention quite a few lives.

He had foiled that plot, too, with the aid of the then fallen hero Hawkgirl.

He would do the same now.

He wasn't surprised to find hoods atop the penthouse roof standing watch. Even if Oswald even thought him a copy, he knew his methods well enough since they had been fighting for years. Ever since the dispossessed megalomaniac had decided to use his odd genetics as a criminal motif.

He swooped back around, his electronic amplifiers picking up the sentries' bored chatter as they smoked, and even drank as they lounged around, obviously feeling safe in a city that had not known his constant watchfulness for several decades now.

That, he promised himself, would change.

He angled his cape/wings, and dove to the nearest corner, sweeping up just before he struck the side the building, and landed atop a cornice just behind a satellite dish. "Did you hear that," someone spat as the snap of his cape's rigid frame yielding itself back into a familiar shape that cloaked his broad shoulders as he hunched just behind the dish, placing each of his opponents in his mind as he planned his first move.

"Freakin' pigeons, man," someone muttered, and the slosh of a bottle being lifted, and guzzled was heard.

"Boss don't like that kind of talk," another thug drawled. "'Specially about his bird buddies."

"You ask me, the boss is out to lunch. The Bat? He's been dead for years.

"Jules, over at Seacrest said he saw Ol' Croc drag him into his sewer, and he never came back up."

"You're full of…."

"I swear. And right after that, the freak disappears, but good. You even heard of anyone seeing the Bat since? I tell you…."

"I seen the Bat rip out Croc's teeth once," another snorted, obviously already tipsy. Good help was apparently hard to find these days. "If he chews anything, it's applesauce in the old folks home where he's locked up these days."

"Well, whatever happened, it ain't like the old days. Back then," an older, raspier voice drawled, "You had to fight some costumed clown every other day of the week. And forget clean getaways. Hell, the Bat, the _real_ Bat, was inhuman the way he was always one step ahead of you. Sometimes, he was even waiting for you to show up."

"Well, don't piss yourself, old man," someone snorted as the hero smirked coolly, and palmed four small bat-shaped darts in one hand, and two gas pellets in another. Both were newly improved. The gas would put out the men who breathed it in seconds, and they'd wake hours later with very bad headaches. The newly restyled batarangs were weighted to give a hard sting to the victim, leaving them momentarily incapacitated from the trace narcotic he used, giving him even more of an edge.

A trick, he was not ashamed to admit, he had learned from the late, unlamented Dr. Crane.

Stepping from behind the satellite dish, he stood there a full minute as the men spread about the access door to the penthouse simply paid no attention to him. Then a bird fluttered from its nearby roost, and all eyes went instinctively to the noise.

"Oh, crap," the older man rasped, staring into his opaque eye slits. "Mahoney was right," he wailed as he did the one thing Batman didn't expect. "It's the Bat," he howled, and threw his automatic rifle down, and fled into the dark doorway.

"Do we do this the easy way," he growled as the others stared at him, one of them dismissing the old-timer as a coward. "Or the _interesting_ way," he mocked them.

"The interesting way, then," he smiled coldly as more than one of the nine men that burst into simultaneous action raised guns as they simply dropped bottles or smokes with harsh curses.

The two gas pellets went to the largest knot of men, three together. With practiced ease, his four darts flew, striking four separate targets. Even as the weapons flew, he was moving, easily dodging erratic gunfire as the startled, and obviously drunken men howled in fear and anger as he moved among them like an untouchable shadow. Only this shadow had powerful fists and driving kicks that put men down with one, occasionally two strikes, as he was still learning to pull his blows so his enhanced strength didn't actually kill these men.

The three men who sucked in the gas were downed in seconds. That left six. Four of which were stunned by the drugged darts that had struck them almost without notice, leaving them immobilized long enough for him to take them down the two men he had not targeted, as they were already nearly incapacitated from their drinking. He looked down at the nine men, and shook his head in disdain.

Good help must be really hard to find these days. He had rougher workouts in his cave alone than these lot had given him.

Striding boldly into the access door, he ignored the closed doors around him as he walked down the dark hall. His hearing was attuned to the closed environment, and he knew the rooms were empty. His IFR lenses confirmed it. He moved inexorably, seeming to glide as he crossed the wide, lush living area, and then stood before the private office the blueprints of Oswald's penthouse had shown. He shoved the door open, and simply stared at the small, balding man that slouched behind the desk, his gnarled hands spread open, and flat on the desk.

"Well, I heard it, but I didn't believe it," the nasal drone of the small, aging villain mocked as the hero in black moved into the dimly lit office without fear. As you can see, I've foregone the usual farcical conflicts we once enjoyed in my old age," he said as he held up his empty hands.

The dark shadow stood before him without comment.

"Oh, but you aren't the real Bat, are you, imposter? Too young. Too toned. The Halloween nut-job I knew in our heydays was much older, and already showing the wear and tear his ridiculous campaign had cost him. Wise up, junior, and go home now. Gotham belongs to those with the money and power to control it."

"And you think that's going to be you, Penguin," Batman drawled, his voice growling low in his throat as he closed the distance between them.

"Wait. I….I know that voice. But….how? You were older than I was when we started having at it. How did you regain your youth," Oswald swore as he heaved his bulky body up from his chair with obvious difficulty. "How?" The Batman's thin smile was far from pleasant.

"You should know by now, Cobblepot. I don't give away trade secrets."

"It's not fair. It's not fair," he rasped, collapsing back into the chair as his legs simply gave out on him.

"Time is catching you, isn't it, Cobblepot. The mayor's attempted assassination was one last attempt at making a name for yourself that would live past your own mortality. Well, you'll be remembered all right," he said, his eyes narrowing as he now loomed over the older, sadder reflection of a once relentless foe. "As a common thug, and a fool who thought he could steal my city. I'm here to tell you that you can't," he told him, leaning over the desk as his own gloved hands supported him as he moved to glare into Oswald's rheumy eyes that were wide with desperation more than fear.

"Just tell me how you managed it," he rasped, his thick lips wet with saliva as he stared back with the obvious fear of death, and the desperation of those unready to face that grim mortality filling his pale expression. "Tell me."

The Batman's thin lips quirked again.

"No," he rasped, and then straightened, and leapt over Cobblepot head, and landed near the open glass doors behind him. "And stay away from Gordon, or you'll be on life support in a prison hospital ward for what remains of your pathetic life."

Stretching his arms wide, his cape stiffened even as he leapt from the balcony, and flew out over the city he had returned to reclaim from those who thought Justice was dead. He glided out over the rooftops, catching an updraft, and angling toward the darker ruins of the heart of the old city. A heart that had darkened even more after he had disappeared.

Thanks mostly to the efforts of men like Cobblepot, and Mahoney.

He heard a shrill scream, and banked sharply, diving almost headlong toward the streets even as he saw the young, pale teen trying to frantically fight off three larger black teens who were methodically stripping her in full view of a half dozen other people who made no attempt to help her. Let alone try to stop the men.

He angled his cape just short of the ground and landed in a low crouch just behind a smashed trash bin, and slowly rose to his full height of just over six feet. In the shadows cast by poor lighting, he loomed large, and ominous as he rose behind the three thugs who might have been part of a gang, or simply out for a lark.

He didn't care why they were doing what they did. He was stopping them.

One of the teens seemed to possess more awareness than the others, and looked back even as he pulled the woman's torn blouse from her shoulders, her own eyes rounding huge as she looked past her attackers, and saw the apparent demon that seemed to rise right out of the ground.

"Not in my city," he growled as the one thug gave a warning cry too late.

He leapt forward, driving his fist into the thug's gut and bent him over to take his raised knee in the face in a perfectly timed combination that sent his sprawling back with a scream as blood all but exploded from his nose. His companions turned only then, and found themselves confronted by the tall, menacing shadow who reached out to take both by the nape, smashing heads into one another that had both unconscious before he released them to fall in ungainly piles on either side of the half naked girl who looked up at him as if she could not believe her eyes.

"But…..But…..you're dead," she rasped, staring at him as shock threatened to overwhelm her.

"No," he told her quietly as he retrieved her blouse from where the first man still lay clutching his pulped nose. "And you're safe now. Dress. The police will be here shortly," he told her, having already radioed for an emergency response even as he had leapt into action.

The girl fumbled with her blouse even as the shrill sirens of the approaching police filled the air. Still, the few spectators stayed away, not daring to come any closer. He waited until the first police squad was within a few yards, the cruiser's lights blinding all around him, and then his hand flashed, and a super strong monofilament line shot out of a concealed grapple to catch several stories up on the nearest brownstone. Triggering the interior wench in the device, he seemed to fly into the air, and quickly melted into the darker shadows around the old structure as he scrambled up the façade of the old building with an ease that made it seem he had never been gone.

He reached the top of the old apartment building, and perversely stood atop the building, looking down on the scene as the second and third units rolled up to surround the three thugs, and the still frozen girl who was gaping up at him as he stood there looking down in an almost imperious manner. He saw the first officers follow the girl's gaze even as the other men moved to quickly check the fallen men who had yet to move.

He heard their incredulous shouts, and then saw several fingers pointed his way as he stood in what Tim would have called his power stance. He smiled thinly at that old memory, and flung himself from the top of the brownstone, his cape flaring as he caught the wind, and soared off into the shadowy sky of the city that was his home. He angled over the area for a few moments, remembering, and savoring, and knowing it had been this moment that had kept him strong enough to return despite the odds against him out there in a galaxy that was larger than most people realized even in this day of alien visitors, and almost daily dimensional incursions.

The hour was apparently late enough, or the people uncertain enough about his rumored return, that the night was quiet just then. He turned his flight path back toward his hidden Batmobile, and triggered the stealth control that let the vehicle shimmer back into view even as he dropped from the sky. He landed just inches from the nose of the sleek, black rocket, and waited for the new armor shield to retract before e approached the open driver's compartment. He glanced to his right, saw the small, round face that stared down at him from a dark window, and waved a gloved hand at the astonished child before he jumped into the driver's seat, and ignited the turbine drive that had him moving even as the retractable belts tightened around his body.

He could just imagine the boy's tales the next morning among his peers.

_**B**_

"I heard you were back. And looking as grim as ever."

"You look as chiseled as ever," Batman retorted as he turned from the computer screen he was studying to glance at the impressive physique clad in distinctive blue and red. "I like the new shield," he said, nodding at the red slash across a black field.

"It's in honor of you, Gordon, Kyle, and the others. I take it you didn't bring any of them back?" "I barely made it back myself."

"Dick said you've been back almost ten years now. Funny no one heard from you until now."

"I wasn't ready."

Superman sighed, and shook his head. "Bruce….."

"_Bruce_ is dead. He's been dead a long time. I'm not brining him back. Unlike you, I don't have a valid way to explain my apparent resurrection."

"Well, you do look….normal enough. Why not simply claim you're an illegitimate….."

"Bruce Wayne was a lot of things. Careless was not one of them. Besides, the best documentation would crumble under the scrutiny that kind of publicity would bring."

"And what do you intend to do when you outlive _Clark_? Fake his death, or finally admit who you are?" "I can't do that. There are still a lot of innocents out there that would pay dearly if I exposed myself like that."

Batman's colder gaze locked with his, and he merely nodded at having made his point.

The Kryptonian hero sighed, and commented, "Space travel seems to agree with you. But even Einstein's laws of inverse time travel can't explain why you look….."

"Take a closer look. I know you're dying to do it."

The Kryptonian's eyes narrowed only slightly, and the Batman could actually sense his powerful x-ray vision penetrating his body.

"Interesting. To say the least. I've never seen organic tech on this level."

"I acquired a new _league _while I was away."

"J'onn would like to hear from you, too. I'm sure he would like to study….." "I'm no one's lab project. I still have a city to protect, and from what I've seen, no one has done much in my absence to protect the people I once swore to guard with my life."

"It's a big world, Bruce," Superman told him grimly as the uncloaked hero merely stared at him. "Even the new league can't patrol every inch of it."

"Still, you could have kept crime lords from taking over the city. I just barely stopped Barbara Gordon's assassination this past week, and….."

"I heard. And I'm sure we're never going to agree on many things, just like before. Still, I've been sent to offer you this."

Batman looked down at the streamlined communication device with a distinctive logo. "No thanks," he shook his head. "I've had a belly full of the League, and it's business from before. I'm staying where I belong this time."

"We could still use you. Diana, J'onn, and I are all that's left of the old guard, and the young heroes we have these days just don't listen to reason, or cooperate as well as.…."

"We did," Batman smirked. "I seem to recall quite a few heated arguments during our time, too, Superman. Then there was the whole Aquaman fiasco, and then the Thanagarian invasion, and John and Shayera's on again, off again, on again flings."

"They got married." Superman told him quietly. "They have a son now. He's five."

"I expected as much of them," he told him cryptically.

"You were probably the only one that did. Most of the League was pretty sure they were going to kill each other the last time they argued. Instead, they went out and got married."

"Sorry I missed that one," Batman drawled, and pressed a key, and glanced at the console screen again before looking back at him.

"Are you?" "I've missed a lot, and I won't deny it. But in case you missed it, I was fighting for my life out there for all those years. Galactic war, and all that, you recall," he drawled sardonically.

"We wanted to come after you," Superman told him after a moment. "I was ready to do it alone. But we couldn't leave Earth defenseless against the Gordanian incursions. After your line buckled, it was all we could do to hold them back for a time. That's what John and Shayera argued about, by the way. She was ready to come after you, but John insisted they stay, and keep the aliens from reaching Earth. He….He suggested rather strongly it was what you would have done."

"It was. It is," Batman told him grimly.

"Besides, I suspect it was you who helped us drive them back in the end," the big Kryptonian who remained as youthful as he suddenly smiled. "Less than a year after you disappeared with Kyle, and the others, they started faltering in their attacks, and acting distracted."

"As I mentioned. I found a few allies, and managed a little subversive activity from the backside of the galaxy."

The virtually invulnerable hero chuckled. "I guessed that myself when we caught a few of the aliens who admitted they were confused as how we had managed to reach their rear defenses, to harangue them there. I wanted to send search parties then, but…..well, as you know yourself by now, it's a big galaxy. We couldn't begin to guess where to search."

"I appreciate the sentiment. We managed, though, and our comrades died facing down the enemy. It's all that need be said of them. They died fighting for what they believed in."

"I'd like you to say that, then," Superman asked him. "Even if you won't return, I would like to have the rest of the League hear that from you. Especially about the sacrifice sometimes demanded of us. Some of them still treat this life like a game. I can't seem to get through to them how serious a game this can be at times. Most treat me like a doddering grandfather," he snorted, as if unable to believe it.

"To some of them, you probably are," Batman drawled. "Face it, Clark. You grew up in a world that most people will never know again. I don't discount your ethical outlook, but sometimes you're a bit too much of a……"

"I believe I told you I was never a boy scout," the Kryptonian replied evenly.

"No, but you come across as a bit of stuffed shirt, to borrow the phrase. Even now, you're standing here as if you could somehow lecture me into cooperation, or trying to use your presence as a means of intimidation."

"I'd never do that," the alien hero frowned. "Especially not with you." "Not consciously. But you're so used to using those methods, that you do it unconsciously most of the time. And trust me, it didn't work twenty years ago, it certainly won't work now." "You are a bit more curt than I recall. That is saying something even for you," Superman sighed. "Listen, man-to-man, will you please address the service we would like to hold to formally retire those heroes that were listed as missing until now?" Batman stared at him, then slowly nodded. "Two days. Just before noon, I'll join you at the new lunar headquarters to give my spiel," he responded.

"I'll arrange…."

"I'll be there," Batman cut him off, and turned to the computer screen once more. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to track the last three major crime lords that still hold Gotham in a stranglehold."

"Last three? I thought there were six at last count."

"Five," Batman told him without looking from the screen. "I got rid of Max Mahoney, and I visited Cobblepot a few nights ago. He's no longer a threat."

"What of that elemental woman," Superman asked. "Even I haven't been able to get within striking distance of her. Oddly enough, my super senses make me even more susceptible to her toxins than ordinary men for some reason. I suspect there might be something magical to her, as much as her origin indicated an organic nature to her powers."

"She wouldn't be the first elemental we've encountered," Batman reminded him. "And Pamela Ivy is no longer a threat. I've neutralized her."

Superman couldn't help but stare at his long missing companion.

"Friday, Clark," Batman dismissed him with his tone. "And remember. I'm not returning. Just making the obligatory gestures for your memorial service."

"I'll tell J'onn and Diana," he nodded.

"So she's really still around," Bruce asked, looking up at him again only then as he paused the data stream that he seemed be literally absorbing as he had stared at the screen.

"She comes and goes. She came back the moment the word reached us you were back."

"Word gets around fast."

"You obviously haven't met our new speedster. Pulse makes Wally look like the very model of discretion at his worst. And she's computer literate."

"How is Wally," Batman asked.

"You don't know?" "I have been more concerned with Gotham, and….other matters since my return," Batman drawled.

"He lost his legs below the knees about five years ago. Ironically, one of his clumsier villains actually got lucky, and he got hurt pretty bad."

"I see," Batman drawled, recalling the impulsive, extrovert that had refused to grow up. Yet he had commanded an awesome power as his personal legacy, and helped save the world several times on his own.

"He's our new Oracle," Superman added. "I doubt anyone could match him at hacking, or simple typing. What he can't do with his legs, his mind and hands now do faster than even his modified keyboards and consoles can cope."

"Sounds like he found his niche, then."

"Well, yes, but he still misses the old days, as he now calls them. It doesn't help our standing when he sits around the Watchtower telling war stories to anyone he can pin down."

"Actually, that sounds just like him," Batman replied, almost smiling just then. Then the smile was gone again, and he eyed Superman with a level gaze. "How about you? I had noted Lois died three years ago."

The Kryptonian's gaze sobered even more as he simply returned his gaze, saying nothing.

"My point exactly. There are some things you just don't discuss. Goodbye, Clark."

He never knew precisely when he left, he was that quick. He only knew that in the time it took him to look back to his computer console, the greatest hero of his age was already gone. He continued reviewing the history of the recent past he had missed, knowing he would find trends, and details that could explain how his city had truly been faring. He noted a familiar name among many of the reports, and made a point of reviewing everything that was linked to one Thomas Thorne, Rupert's nephew who had apparently stepped in to take over his uncle's faltering businesses since the old man had almost died in jail after his last arrest.

He immediately place the young Thorne in his list of likely suspects for the last, and so far, unnamed crime lord operating in Gotham. He knew two newcomers now ran the rackets, and vice in the city respectively. Without the more garish villains that had plagued his earlier life, more polished, and secretive criminals had risen to take the reins of the city. One was Ethan Hawke, a self-styled mobster, and the other was a Chicago native named Polanski. Both would be easy to find from what he had gathered so far, but Thorne was far more clever.

He had his address, of course. His phone, cell, and even emails. Even the covert one he used to cruise for fresh talent for his stables. What he didn't have, was concrete evidence that linked him to at least nine murders in the past year, and a host of other charges.

When he had that, he could put a second Thorne out of business, and break the back of organized crime in Gotham once more. He wasn't worried about the possibility of escalation in the wake of a power void. By then, Gotham would know he was back, and that he was not going anywhere again.

A soft chime sounded from across the cave he was still gradually bringing back to life as he updated, upgraded, or just generally cleaned out the accumulated dust and debris of a long, neglected past. He rose from the console he had been studying, and shut down the online link before he moved gracefully over to the lab section where the sound had originated.

He lifted a small cover from a device he had built from memory, and ignored the rush of steam that rose from the device as he opened it. He studied the readout on the nearby scanner even as he lifted his creation, and eyed it critically. He turned it over, studied the linkages, and tested each one before he set the device aside, and turned to another device that was still assimilating the biological data he had fed into it. It was not going to be ready anytime soon, and it was almost night.

Time for the Bat to return to the streets of Gotham.

He walked toward his equipment center that now glistened brightly as the chrome shelves had been cleaned, and dusted, and the new devices he had been testing where added to his stock-in-trade 'toys' he had little need to alter. Loading his new utility belt, and secret pouches and pockets, he donned his cape and cowl once more, not bothering to summon Barbara, or Dick.

The former was still glowing in the glory given her for 'arranging' a truce with Ivy, and the former had business at Wayne-Tech as his sole heir, and CEO of the company. Unfortunately for the new heir, he did not have a Lucius Fox he could rely on as Bruce had when he was in charge of the company. The rumors he had heard had Dick losing his arm in a racing accident trying to follow his guardian's careless example of thrill-seeking were naturally untrue. The truth was, Nightwing had almost gotten himself killed during that last patrol that had gotten him involved in taking down some heavy hitters with meta powers that challenged the supremely trained athlete.

Batman smiled grimly as he leapt into the driver's seat of his new transport that was more a rocket than a car. Igniting the engine, he aimed the Batmobile toward the city, and the nightly patrol he had taken up once again since it became common knowledge that Cobblepot had been forced into retirement after a massive stroke. The doctors all agreed something had frightened him badly.

It made it hard for even the 'law and order' mayor to bring charges against the man for hiring the assassin who had tried to kill her, and instead had only managed to take out five of her bodyguards, and two civilians before a surprise appearance by the 'new' Batman stopped him cold.

Hard, but not impossible. The once self-styled Penguin now occupied an ICU room in a prison hospital.

Mahoney had vanished, his million-dollar empire literally dissolving overnight. Meanwhile, the last three bosses were running scared, and thugs were jockeying for position to see who would fill the void in the power structure of Gotham's elite underworld hierarchy. He intended to ensure no one did so.

His turbine-powered rocket cruised through the streets, and he spotted quite a few police cruisers on the streets as he turned down alleys, and took side streets most would have avoided in daylight, let alone after dark. Barbara was determined to keep her city safe, and its citizens protected, though, and thus she had built a massive police department. Unfortunately, just being an officer didn't guarantee you were honest. Corruption remained a problem even in modern police forces, but Batman didn't distinguish.

You were either good, or you were bad.

He didn't care if you were wearing a badge if he spotted illegal, or immoral actions.

So when he saw two officers forcing a teenage prostitute into an alley, rather than into their car, he knew something didn't look right. He sprang from his car even as the auto-drive took over, and spread his cape to glide over and down atop the men.

"Is there a problem, officers," he asked grimly as he landed just behind the man about to throw a punch into the frightened redhead's face.

"Just move along," the man spat as his partner turned, his hand on his gun, and froze.

"Ah…..J-J-Jim," his partner stammered, obviously a rookie who was being led down the wrong path. "You….might want to turn around."

"What," the older cop snapped, and turned just in time to see the dark shadow that seemed to leap out to surround him just before he was jerked up into the air, and abruptly found himself dangling upside down from the edge of a fire escape more than thirty feet from the hard pavement.

The rookie gasped as his partner seemed to just fly up into the air with the black-clad figure, and then the Batwings fluttered as the mystery man landed in front of the young officer still standing beside the frightened prostitute.

"You're a little young for this life," he commented grimly as he ignored the younger officer, and stood before the pretty redhead.

"I…I don't want to do this," she stammered, staring at him with huge, green eyes. "My….My dad owes money to Sgt. Hankins, and…..and he said I had to…..to….."

The girl burst into tears as Batman turned to the rookie. "Are you an officer of the law, or a thug, kid," he growled.

"I….I want to be a policeman," the young man rasped, too frightened by the dark knight's presence to even think of running, or fighting.

"Then take this girl home. And when your….comrade is brought in, make sure you testify against him for his illegal activities."

"I can't rat……"

"You can talk to the D.A.," Batman growled as he moved to look down into the young officer's suddenly pale face. "Or you can talk to me. And I can find you anywhere, Officer Roy David Barlow. Anywhere."

With a rustle of his cape, the vigilante seemed to fly up into the air once more, and then he was gone. Back in the street, there was no sign of the sleek, black car he had arrived in earlier. The vehicle had just vanished.

"Look….ah, Helen," Roy rasped as he looked around anxiously as his sergeant screamed obscenities down at them. "Get in the car, and I'll take you home. He….Uh, Batman…..He's right. You don't belong out here."

"R-Really," the girl asked, tears still falling as her makeup streaked down her face. Jim had been ready to beat the girl into cooperating tonight, and Roy wasn't so sure he had liked that idea. Still, even he didn't know if he could have defied the senior officer when it came to it.

Until he was suddenly motivated by the cold eyes of the vigilante who had sprung up to take up the mantle of the Batman. He had heard some claims it was the same Bat, but he knew the man would have had to be nearly sixty by now if he even still lived. That was not a sixty year old man he had seen. He wasn't altogether sure it was a man at all.

When he settled the young ten into the passenger seat of the squad, he was surprised to find both Jim's badge, and his equipment belt, including his backup pistol, in the front seat. He didn't even try to understand how it was accomplished. He simply radioed in the situation, and waited for help to arrive before he took the girl back to her parents.

"What about the money," Helen asked timidly when he stopped in front of her apartment house, her green eyes full of fear.

"Tell your father to forget about it. Sgt. Hankins is out of business," he said even as he spotted a shifting shadow atop the building as Helen smiled anxiously, then all but leapt out of the car. He did not try looking up again.

His father had told him tales of the first Batman. He had been a cop in the early days of Batman's career, before the commissioner had finally deputized the vigilante that no one could seem to stop, let alone find. He drove right back to the corner where Helen was to have entered Ben's stable to repay the loan he had made to her father, and cringed under the cold, hard gaze of Commissioner Bullock's portly features.

"So, you the mook that saw the Bat?" "Yessir," he nodded as Jim gave a yelp when the men climbing up to free him almost dropped him. "And I think I need to talk….about my partner."

"Funny thing, kid," Harvey drawled as chewed the toothpick that had replaced the cigars he used to smoke in his youth. "Someone already dropped a real fat file on my desk just this evening. I was on my way to see Jimmy there," he said, stabbing a thumb at the cop now being led toward a squad in cuff. "When I hear your call. I just want to know one thing. This Bat character….Did he look old to you?" "No, sir," Roy shook his head. "Dad used to tell me about seeing the Bat. But it's not the same when you look into those eyes. But…..this guy….he was young. I could just tell he was young. But he was scary. Scary as hell. Begging your pardon, sir, but…..I wanted to piss myself when he stared at me."

"Yeah, that sounds like him. But the freak would have to be well into his sixties by now. Guess he was off training the next generation all this time," he snorted. "Terrific. Just when I thought we were done with the circus acts in this town," he muttered.

Then he looked back at Roy, and added, "By the way, you're suspended till IA clears you. If they clear you. You got an appointment to see them first thing in the morning. Right after you see me," Harvey told him, his balding head temporarily revealed when he pulled his old hat off to wipe a thick brow.

"Damn, it's hot."

"Hot," Roy frowned. "That was it. That was what I noticed." "Noticed what," Harvey asked.

"That Batman. He was….I don't know, flying, or something. Moving real fast, and yet…..he never sweat. Not a drop. It was like….he wasn't human," Roy exclaimed.

"We'll not mention that again, right," Harvey demanded as the press, typically quick to sniff out a story, appeared en masse around the five squads, and Harvey's private car. "In fact, you won't say a word. Get out of here, kid. Remember. No comment," he said, and turned to face the reporters trying to see who was in the car rolling off just then.

_**B**_

Batman smirked as he watched the young officer deliver the girl safely home. He then turned to launch himself into the air, using his grapple this time as he exercised his muscles as he exalted in the sheer effort of swinging from roof to roof, and heaving himself up and over tall spires to leap out once more into the night. He noted his heart rate remained virtually constant, and he never truly had to breathe more than normally as his virtually tireless body moved with ease that made him feel almost as young as he appeared to be just then.

He wondered if this was how Clark must feel. Doing the things he did, and yet doing them without much effort at all. Even back in his heyday, he had noted that Clark was growing stronger over the years. Where once he had grunted lifting cars, he now lifted cargo ships without any visible effort at all. Where that radioactive element that came of his home world's demise had once nearly killed him, he had heard it now barely even slowed him down.

He certainly looked no older.

He suspected that was what truly bothered the new generation of heroes he had been reviewing through the available files. Clark and Diana seemed all but immortal. From what he learned, Diana was. Maybe Clark, too. It was becoming more evident every year. The young heroes were likely just disconcerted by those demigods that walked among them, trying to show them the way as if they were some kind of archetypal parent, rather than allies.

A mistake, Batman knew. True, he had made his share of mistakes with his wards and allies over the years. Still, one thing he had learned was that you did not just lecture young people, and expect them to stop and listen. You could offer suggestions, and lend guidance, but you did not stand there and dictate because no young person, hero or otherwise, was ever going to listen.

He finally paused, and for a time watched the dark building just a few yards from his perch, and when the light finally came he flung himself toward the steel and chrome building. He landed lightly near the window, and entered the room to find himself in a small, private office. He heard voices just outside the office, and hesitated.

A moment later, a man chuckled as he entered the room, flipping open the light, and looking over his shoulder, said, "I promise, I won't be long. I just need to file a few reports, and then I'm all yours, honey."

"Congratulations," a voice said from the dark cloak of the drapes just beyond the lamp's soft glow that illuminated the desk alone in the room. "I just heard you were married recently."

Tim Drake spun around, and gaped as he saw the tall, imposing shadow he had been hearing rumors about for days now. "Batman, I presume," Tim recovered quickly as his eyes made out the humanoid shape in the shadows behind him. "I heard you were, ah, back. If you are….." "I am back, Tim," he drawled. "And I could use your computer skills. Barb's are good, but she was never really as good as you, even as Oracle."

"B….Batman," he stopped himself from using another name as he frowned, and stepped closer to the shadow. "But….we heard you were…."

"As they say, the rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated." "I should have known. Still, shouldn't you be in retirement…..?"

Tim couldn't help but gasp as the tall, lean, and very powerful form separated from the shadows in his office to stand before him. Whatever he had expected when he heard the rumors, seeing this obvious specimen of human perfection standing like a grim monolith before him was not it.

"Wow. What secret did you learn, and how can I learn it," the already graying D.A. asked as his dark hair was streaked by silver by the stress of his job.

"You wouldn't like it. You have to spend over ten years in space first. And _that_ was the easy part."

"So, what is it you think I can do to help?" "First," he said, "Here is everything I have on Polanski. He's about to move into white slavery, and plans to ship out more than fifty young women to Arab and European buyers tomorrow night. I think you can catch him red-handed if you know where to go."

"And….you know?" "I know. Read the report. What I need from you, is everything you can dig up on Thorn."

"Thorn? Man, Bats, he's so clean he squeaks. We haven't been able to find so much as a parking ticket we can use against him. Now Mahoney….." "Max is out of the game," came the grim reply.

"And Penqy had a big-time stroke. Which, I'm starting to understand now," Tim said as he eyed the grim-eyed hero who had yet to move so much as a muscle other than handing him the computer disk he had produced. "And, I'm guessing you had something to do with Poison Ivy's sudden change of heart, and her new leaf, so to speak?" "Thorn, Tim. I need more on him than what's in the public files. I want you to dig deeper for me. Rumors. Speculation. Anything I can use to break up his organization."

"What organization? Like I told you…." "He's using the revamped Black Mask gang," he cut Tim off with a scowl.

"We thought that was Hawke."

The Batman's head shook slightly. "Hawke fancies himself a sporting man. He sticks to numbers, rackets, and the like. Cutting off the money would put him out of business overnight. With Mahoney gone, he lost a major source of his income. Right now, he's scrambling to regain his piece of the pie. Polanski thinks to up the ante, turning his vice network into a true slaver's operation like the one you cracked in Central City with….Wally's help a few years ago."

"You knew about….?"

Batman cut him off with a curt snort, telling him; "Neither him, nor Polanski have the brains, or the desire to operate such a band of obvious thugs and murderers. Bad for their legitimate businesses. So, that leaves only Mr. Thorn. Meanwhile, we have to stop the other two as well. The evidence on that disk will take down Polanski for you. And put him out of business for good. I'll see to Ethan Hawke myself. But we need to stop Thorn before he can try to fill the power vacuum left by the others. I don't want another Rupert in my city," he spat.

"I'll see what I can find out," he said, turning to the desk to set the disk near his computer even as he switched it on. "But….. Damn, I never did get used to that," Tim swore as he turned to find the draperies swaying slightly from the breeze allowed by the open window, but nothing else. The Batman had simply vanished.

Sitting down in front of his computer, he opened the disk, and gaped as he saw the shipping manifests, inventories, and more that had to have come right from Robert Polanski's own computer. He swore as he saw some of the data that turned human beings into cattle, and commodities, and broke his promise to his wife as he began to dig deeper, and deeper, and soon found himself lost in a role he had thought left behind many years ago.

_**B**_

"Well, well," Harvey Bullock muttered as he switched on his office light and saw the tall shadow standing there awaiting him. "Now I know how Gordon felt," the man spat as he kept his composure despite the thud of his heart when he had first seen that evil-looking bastard standing over his private files.

"But you're not the Bat, not the real one, because I seen him, buddy. Now, trick-or-treat is over, and I'm not deputizing your sorry ass for beating on cops. Not even crooked ones. So why don't you…." "Save it, Bullock," the voice growled, and Harvey knew, he just _knew_, this was the one and only Bat. "I'm not here for niceties. I have something for you," he told him.

"Drake's already called me. Seems he didn't trust no one else in the department. Too many bent cops these days. Cutbacks in pay make even honest men greedy," he shrugged as he took his seat behind the desk, and turned to glower at the man who admittedly made him more than a little uneasy.

The dark shadow said nothing as he just stood there eyeing him.

"So, you looking for something in particular, or do you just have a fondness for breaking and entering?" "This isn't about Polanski. It's about the Black Mask gang."

"Joker's old outfit," he snorted. "They went belly up after we fried that madman. 'Bout time, too. I thought for sure you'd finish each other off someday, but I guess somebody finally got tired of letting that loony walk all over us."

"Then the joke is on you, Bullock. Joker is alive."

"What?" Harvey sat up straight now, and glared at him as Batman slammed the drawer closed.

"DNA profiling," Batman said, and dropped the file on his desk. "You fried an innocent man. Joker cloned himself, and if what I suspect is true, he is rebuilding the Black Mask gang into a private army to take on all of Gotham. If not more. He always was a megalomaniac."

"Said the fruitcake to the screwball," Harvey muttered as he picked up the file, and stared at it. "What's this," he frowned.

"Confirmation. Carl A. Shipton. A minor thug in Joker's old gang. Went missing several years ago. Right about the time you supposedly executed the Joker. About the same time one Thomas Thorne, golden child of the city's financial district came out of nowhere, and began amassing a private fortune to rival the world's richest men."

"Are you saying….?" "One DNA sample is all you need to ascertain that Thorne, and Joker, are one and the same."

"Is that even possible," Harvey demanded as he stared at the file. "I mean, making one guy into another?" "I've seen even more amazing things. With the current level of cellular research being carried on in private research facilities, it not only possible. It's probable. Or have you already forgotten Cadmus?" "I don't really like hearing this scifi crap, Bats," Harvey swore at him. "You been gone for like, forever, and then you just drop back in like it's old home week, and set off this bombshell in my office. Do you know what this is going to make us look like?" "I don't care about your appearances, commissioner," Batman shot back. "I wanted to warn you. There is a war coming. Joker wouldn't build up an empire like this without a reason. Knowing him, it's got to be a very deadly reason."

Harvey sighed. "Five years. Just five more years, and I could retire in peace."

"Justice," Batman retorted, "Does not retire." "Yeah, and……" Harvey swung his chair around, but there was no sign of his tormentor. "Damn, I hate that crap," he spat, feeling a heavy thud in his heart again. Guess he would have to consider seeing that damn quack about his ticker after all. Meanwhile, he had some questions to take up with the coroner, not to mention a few security guards at Arkham, and hell, half the damn city.

"Five more years," he muttered, and looked down at the missing con's face he had figured for one of them that either got iced, and dropped in the river, or had taken off for greener pastures. Just five more years, and he could have had a nice, quiet retirement. Instead, he had to come in just in time for a reunion of Gotham's greatest freaks.

He shook his head, and reached for the phone. Time to start waking people up with bad news. Hell, why should he be the only one not sleeping?

_**B**_

"Hello, Ethan. Or should I say, Henry?" "Ah, the ever inestimable Batman. I am honored to be considered worthy of your time, sir," the lean, dapper man in a gray evening suit smiled as he affected a faint bow in the Batman's direction. "Would you care for a drink," he asked as he continued making himself one without showing any loss of composure by Batman's sudden appearance in his private club that had just closed for the night.

"It's time to move on, Henry. For your own safety, I suggest another climate."

"And where would you suggest, sir," Ethan Hawke asked mockingly as he turned to face the hero again, sipping his drink as if unmoved by the grim manner of his visitor.

"Anyplace but Gotham."

"Ah, but there's the rub. I've a thriving business here. Employees to consider. Not to mention a very sizeable….."

"Your investments just went belly-up.

"Mahoney is gone, and Cobblepot is retired."

"Yes," Ethan drawled. "I heard about his sudden…collapse. I suppose the old man just couldn't take the shock of seeing _you_, could he?" Batman didn't reply.

"I suppose summoning my boys to give you a proper thrashing would be of little use, would it?" "They're all sleeping out back," Batman drawled with a thin smirk.

"I see," Ethan sighed, and cocked his head. "And I heard you aren't the type of fellow to bribe."

The opaque eyes narrowed into menacing slits.

"Just a notion," Ethan said, and smiled as he nodded at him.

Or behind him.

"Still, I've another who might like a second opinion. Perhaps you recall him?" Batman spun, and saw the huge, bulky frame of a masked man in midnight blue with a bulky gauntlet on one thick wrist. "He almost killed the _first_ Batman, you know," Ethan chuckled. "I thought, why not give him a shot at the replacement? Bit of poetic irony, don't you know," the man smacked as he sipped his drink as the big man before the dark hero flexed his massive musculature, and growled an incomprehensible threat. "Don't mind him, though. All that venom has left him quite witless. Completely fried his brain, you see? But he still takes orders quite well. Bane. Kill," Ethan drawled carelessly as he pointed at the cloaked man.

Bane's wide eyes fixed on Batman from beneath his mask, and he lumbered forward, fast, breathing like a freight train in great rasps, and huge fingers outstretched to grab, maul, and break as the hero did not even move to evade him.

Instead, before Ethan's stunned eyes, Batman slipped under the surprisingly quick brute's charge, and wrapped his own hand around his venom-injecting feed, and literally crushed the mechanism even as his other hand curled into a hard fist, and drove up and into the man's chest just beneath his diaphragm. The heavily muscled assassin gasped, stepped back, and fell flat after a follow-up blow to his jaw left him out on his feet. Literally.

"As I was saying," Batman turned to face Ethan again. "Anyplace but Gotham. Or not even the witness protection program will hide you from me, Henry," he told the former Chicago native who had turned on his bosses for a deal with the feds, and started over as his own boss in Gotham after it seemed to have lost its protector.

"It would seem you have learned a few things the original didn't know," Ethan drawled, now fighting very hard to maintain his composure as he studied the grim figure that stepped carelessly over the fallen assassin's body, and moved toward the door.

"Tomorrow night, Hawke. That's how long you have to get out of my town."

Then the Bat was gone, and Ethan, swallowing the dregs of his drink, turned to grab a bottle to gulp down the burning liquor without pretense. Suddenly, it did seem like a very good time to leave. He had known when to get out of Chicago, after all. It only made sense he should know when to leave even this cash cow of a city.

Dead men, after all, couldn't spend a dime no matter how rich they had been. From the look in that grim, masked vigilante's face he had little doubt the vigilante promised more than a few bruises. Judging by how easily he had taken down Bane, too, he could more than deliver on that implied promise. Ethan forced down two more gulps of the potent liquor to calm himself, then went to rouse his men to start packing.

Better safe than sorry, he told himself, feeling the old adage was more than apropos just then.

_**B**_

Batman climbed out of the Batmobile even as the engine turbines still whined down to a stop, and strode toward his working experiments as he pulled back the cowl from his solemn features after a long night of patrolling. He had stopped four thieves, two attempted murders, and no less than a dozen rapes. Things were definitely slowing down already as Gotham drew a cautious breath, waiting to see just what manner of Bat he was going to be since his apparent return.

He stopped by the main console of his supercomputers, and saw no messages warranting his immediate attention. That meant Drake had yet to find anything, and that Dick was likely still busy with Wayne-Tech, or Barbara. He considered a few other matters he had to tend even as he headed toward the working experiments that awaited his attention. Even as he did, he stopped, dropping into a low crouch as one hand pulled his cowl up even as the other palmed two batarangs, his eyes already searching the dark cavern around him for the source of the sounds his ears had detected.

"Sharp as ever, detective," a low, raspy voice commented as the faint squeak of wheels again reached his ears. "I'm impressed. But even more, I am intrigued," the aged figure before him in the wheelchair smiled a horrific smile.

"Ra's," he murmured curtly. "What brings you out of hiding," he asked grimly as he rose to his full height, but did not otherwise relax.

Old, or not, he knew well enough that Ra's al Ghul was likely one of the most dangerous men on the planet. Even supposedly incapacitated, Ra's al Ghul was a man not to be underestimated. He had learned that lesson countless times over the years.

"You, actually, detective," Ra's smiled again.

_**TO BE CONTINUED………..**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**THE BAT :**_

_**THE BAT AND THE CAT, AND…….**_

_**By LJ58**_

**Part 2:**

Batman climbed out of the Batmobile even as the engine turbines still whined down to a stop, and strode toward his working experiments as he pulled back the cowl from his solemn features after a long night of patrolling. He had stopped four thieves, two attempted murders, and no less than a dozen rapes. Things were definitely slowing down already as Gotham drew a cautious breath, waiting to see just what manner of Bat he was going to be since his return.

He stopped by the main console of his supercomputers, and saw no messages warranting his immediate attention. That meant Drake had yet to find anything, and that Dick was likely still busy with Wayne-Tech, or Barbara. He considered a few other matters he had to tend even as he headed toward the working experiments that awaited his attention. Even as he did, he stopped, dropping into a low crouch as one hand pulled his cowl up even as the other palmed two batarangs, his eyes already searching the dark cavern around him for the source of the sounds his ears had detected.

"Sharp as ever, detective," a low, raspy voice commented as the faint squeak of wheels again reached his ears. "I'm impressed. But even more, I am intrigued," the aged figure before him in the wheelchair smiled a horrific smile.

"Ra's," he murmured curtly. "What brings you out of hiding," he asked grimly as he rose to his full height, but did not otherwise relax though he put his weapons away.

Old, or not, he knew well enough that Ra's al Ghul was likely one of the most dangerous men on the planet. Even supposedly incapacitated, Ra's al Ghul was a man not to be underestimated. He had learned that lesson countless times over the years.

"You, actually, detective," Ra's smiled again.

"What is it this time," the Bat demanded of him as he strode forward, closing the distance around them as he scanned the shadows around them. "More threats, or more bribes?"

"Neither," the ancient assassin smiled thinly. "The fact is, I was fascinated by certain rumors I had heard about you of late. You vanished years ago, breaking poor, dear Talia's heart by the way," he added gruffly, "And now you reappear as if you were never gone. Yet you are remarkably strong, seemingly ageless, and I had to wonder, had you finally succumbed to the temptation of the Lazarus Pits?"

Batman said nothing.

"But, no, I see you have not. I would know, after all. You found a way that I have not."

"I see. And you want it for yourself," he asked knowingly.

"Were if for myself alone, I would simply take it, detective," the man smiled coldly, his apparent age not reducing the aura of menace that shrouded him. "But, no, as you have likely intuited by now, the Lazarus Pits have recently lost their efficacy on my metabolism, and thus I have been reduced to this pathetic shell you see before you. At least, for the moment. My…Our beloved Talia, however, has been reduced to this," he said, and gestured at the shadows where two men brought forth a slender, silver cylinder.

The Batman showed no surprise at the darkly clad assassins that appeared out of the shadows. He had already picked out their presence earlier, and judged them no threat since they were obviously occupied with their burden.

"What happened to her," he demanded as he looked away from the pale, blue occupant of the stasis-tube he had seen before now. It was one designed by Victor Frieze before he had exiled himself to some arctic hideaway after he finally gave up on humanity after his wife had inevitably died despite all his efforts to save her.

"Ironically, a common complaint of late," Ra's sighed. "She has an inoperable growth in her brain. Even my own contacts cannot find a way to spare her a painful, and prolonged death. But you, detective, have overcome such obstacles as most mere men cannot imagine. I ask you…. No, I, Ra's al Ghul, _beg you_, to save our beloved Talia, before she is lost to us both forever."

The cold, blue eyes raked the old man's withered frame, and looked over at the tube again holding that sleek, still body he had known quite well some years past. He remembered the warmth of her voluptuous frame as she had wrapped herself around him, giving herself to him completely. Only her loyalty to her father and his mad mission to obliterate the majority of man from the globe kept her from his side when he offered her a place there.

"I do not know if I can help her, but leave her, Ra's," he told him solemnly, "And I will do all I can," he declared. "On that, you have my word."

"Your word has ever been good enough for me, detective," the old man nodded with a faint smile. "Even if it has often been given against me," he added sardonically.

"You know the reasons for that," the hero replied.

"Indeed. A pity. We would have made a formidable team. Still, it is your interminable optimism that now compels me to trust you with my most beloved daughter's life. I shall check on her at a later date. I have….other matters to tend. You understand?" "Of course," the cowled detective nodded as the assassins moved back to help the man in the wheelchair turn around.

"I don't suppose you would be willing to share the secret of your remarkable rejuvenation….?"

Ra's had paused, looking back over his shoulder to ask that question. The grim, implacable visage that met his query with silence made him chuckle. "I thought not, but I couldn't refrain from asking. In this endeavor," he added, glancing back to his frozen daughter. "I cannot help but wish you luck."

"You'll understand if I don't return the sentiment."

The old man cackled, then vanished. His chair was obviously no ordinary chair for invalids. It moved silently, vanishing with its occupant, and Ra's assassins into the darker shadows beyond the main caverns.

"Time to beef up security, too," he reminded himself grimly as he returned to the stasis tube that held Talia in complete suspension. He noted the internal power supply added to safeguard against power outages was still well within normal operating ranges, but he still moved the heavy cylinder into his private medical lab to hook it up to the main power supply. No sense in taking chances.

Besides, he also wanted to run his own check of the still lovely brunette with the new scanners that J'onn had installed in his private lab at his request some years ago when he first returned. Clark's reaction to his sudden reappearance told him the Martian had kept his vow about keeping his return a secret. Of course, he had long known the last surviving Martian in existence was very good at keeping secrets when he wished.

He set the cylinder with Talia near the main operating theater, and set up the linkages that would allow the system to fully analyze, and diagnose her medical condition. It would also ascertain just what, if anything, could be done for her. For he had meant what he had told Ra's. He would do everything he could for her. He had not thought of her in years simply because the memories were too painful.

He had truly loved Talia. He still did. But she was devoted to her father's cause, and that was a barrier even their love could never breach. Still, he would not leave her as she was, not if he could help her. But first, he would be certain of everything before he would move.

Returning to the cave, he used the computer to scan the entire cave. As he had suspected, there were three uncharted tunnels that now opened into the main cavern. Likely opened, and unnoticed during the earthquakes that had troubled Gotham some years ago, and he had been too distracted to take note of them.

He was not distracted now.

He reset internal security to monitor their openings, at the least, and then took the necessary equipment to see about investigating the passages. Once he learned just where they actually led, and if there were any secondary passages branching off them that might endanger his security precautions, he would decide whether to incorporate them into his maze of tunnels that led in and out of Gotham, or simply close them. Permanently.

_**B**_

"So, what's the big secret," Dick asked as he came down into the cave, and stopped to gape at the silver cylinder that glowed faintly in the corner of the lab. "Whoa," Dick murmured, heading toward the cylinder. "Isn't that….?"

"That's none of your concern," he told him coolly. "This way. I want you to understand something before I proceed."

"What is that," the former Robin asked as he walked through the lab, watching the different lights and beeping panels that indicated ongoing experiments.

"Me," the Batman told him.

"You," Dick frowned as he followed him past a row of humming, beeping equipment that was doing things he couldn't begin to guess since most of the equipment was strange to him.

"Yes. Based on the techno-organic grafts first given me, I have figured out a way to duplicate a portion of the process which created the new limb here."

"Holy….! Is that real," Dick exclaimed as Batman took out what looked like a very real human arm right up to the shoulder.

"It might as well be if you grafted it to your body. It would replace your prosthesis, and give you back full range of mobility, and your strength. You could even _feel_ with it, since it incorporates itself into the host's existent nervous system."

"That's….incredible," he exclaimed, then couldn't quite resist an uneasy shudder when the grim hero gave him the limb, and his own remaining hand insisted it felt just like real, human flesh. "This is….."

"It's yours."

"Hey, even if this does all that you said, it wouldn't mean I'm going back into the hero business. Even if I could, I think I'm pretty much over that part of my life," he told him. "As tempting as it might seem."

"If you'll recall your start, you'll also recall that I never wanted you take the mantle of Robin. That was your decision. Just as it is now," Batman told him solemnly. "What I'm offering, is as much for Barbara, as for you. I'm not blind. I've seen the way you two look at each other."

"Are you saying…..?" "No, I can't give her back her legs," Batman cut him off. "However," he added when Dick's hopeful expression sobered. "Using the same technology, I am working on devising a neuro-net that can be….theoretically, used to return sensation to Barb's lower body. Recall that Joker's bullet impacted the lower spine, disrupting her nervous system in that region, and paralyzing her lower limbs. If I'm right, this technology can give her back feeling, even it can't make her walk. She can regain a fully sensate body. Including a full sex life."

Dick blushed as the cold-eyed hero ignored his coloring.

"As I said, I'm not blind. But this is still theoretical, and while I'm confident the arm will work, the neuro-web I'm programming is purely experimental. I'll leave it up to you to speak with her, and sound her out. There is, after all, a potential risk in putting _anything_ into her body at this point considering the damage done to her spine."

"So, is this experimental, too," Dick asked, still a little uneasy about holding that all too real arm that looked quite like his own now that he really looked at it. For a moment he was lying flat on his back, looking up at that silver-eyed bastard waving goodbye at him with his own severed arm. Then he shook his head, and asked. "Is it?" "No. This is proven tech. I've already passed it on to J'onn to leak to the medical community for making new prosthetics for those that need them. I do understand he's working as a researcher for Wayne-Tech now in his latest secret identity, so it should net you quite a bundle once it comes out on the open market."

Dick arched a brow. "I'm not even going to ask how you knew that."

"Just talk to Barb. The choice is yours. And hers. Now, if you'll let yourself out, I've things to do just yet."

"More experiments," Dick asked uneasily.

"Actually, I have to write a speech."

"A speech," Dick looked at him oddly.

"For the League. It seems they're holding a belated memorial service for those that didn't make it back."

"Oh. Right. I….almost forgot….."

"I haven't. I remember every one of them," Batman told him gravely.

"Yeah," Dick Grayson nodded. "I….I guess I've been so caught up with managing Wayne-Tech lately that I just…..lost touch."

"No one blames you for that. As you said, you are out of the business."

"Still, I think I should be there, too. When, and where?" "Tomorrow evening. In the new Watchtower."

"On the moon," he exclaimed. "I haven't even seen what the place looks like, it's so secret."

"Then they finally learned something from me, it would seem," he replied as he turned to go.

"Wait," Dick called, looking at him with a speculative look. "Would it be all right if I…..?" "Came along? I'm sure you'd be more than welcome," Batman's voice softened only slightly for the first time in days.

"That, too, but…..I was wondering… If I decide to _try_ this arm, how does it work?" Batman eyed the young man, and nodded. "Simply remove your prosthesis, and its harness, and hold the arm in place against the shoulder for one minute. The nannite bonding will take about that long. Give it about six hours before you try anything strenuous," he advised knowingly. "It will take that long for the neuro-net and artificial linkages to fully integrate."

"That's it? No surgery? No….?" "Just hold it in place, and then give it time. That's all."

"It sounds like…..?" "Magic? Recall the frequent observation made adage, that any sufficiently advanced technology may appear…."

"To be magic. Got it. I would like to attend that service, though. But, first, I think I will go see Barbara."

"Good. I suggest you find something to carry that in if you're taking it with you," he added as Dick held the eerily realistic arm.

"Right. I'll see if Nolan has something I can borrow," he said, naming a cousin of Alfred's who had come to take over the duties of tending Wayne manor after the older man had finally passed away thinking his longtime charge had died in space.

Unlike Alfred, though, Nolan was a bit of a prig who wouldn't even pretend to notice the oddities of the cavern right below the manor, and didn't want to know judging from his opinion when it came to costumed heroes in general.

As far as he knew, the cave was some secret vice den Dick had created, and Dick never tried to argue him out of the idea.

Nolan was also a bit thick.

_**B**_

Batman said nothing as Barbara rolled off the elevator platform, and glanced at him. "Dick will be down shortly," the still attractive redhead told him. "He had to distract Nolan, or he would have thought the 'master' was up to his usual antics, as he likes to put it."

Batman didn't comment.

"I….talked with him about your offer."

"And," Batman finally drawled.

"I'd like to try it. After we get back."

"We?" "I was Batgirl. And I'm mayor of Gotham. I think it only right I be a representative at the ceremony for some of our own. Not many remember Helen, but the Huntress was a public figure. And Kyle did help save Gotham once, too. That's not been forgotten. Not by everyone."

"All right, Mayor Gordon, but I suggest you leave the alter ego out of the introductions. I just learned Joker is not as dead as some think."

Barbara paled. "What do you mean," she demanded. "I was there. I saw the guard throw the switch….."

"You saw a look-alike die. Joker, the _real_ Joker, is posing as Thomas Thorne."

"But that's….."

"Mad?" "Among other things," the shaken redhead agreed. "How can you be sure?" "Do you doubt me?" "No, but if I am going to have to deal with this, I'd like to know a few more details."

"DNA splicing, and implanted cloning techniques. Likely stolen from former Cadmus scientists. He used one of his own thugs to take his place in Arkham, and in the executioner's chair, then apparently hatched this plot to replace Rupert's legitimate nephew."

"How can you be sure?" "As I said, DNA. I already tipped Bullock. Shipton's body was tested yesterday. And it was Shipton's underneath the mask. I also believe the real Thomas Thorne is either dead, or being held in reserve to take the fall for whatever that madman is planning this time."

Barbara sighed as Dick slid down the old pole that had not been used in years. Flinging off an overcoat, he revealed his old costume that had been retooled to fit his more mature body. "Dick," she frowned as she took in the black costume with the unmistakable avian design.

"It's only for the service," Dick assured her. "I thought it would be better than going as a bored billionaire," he said, putting his distinctive eye mask in place.

"He's right, Barbara. Dick Grayson would be out of place at this memorial service. Nightwing, however, would not," he said pointedly as he noted the former hero's perfectly matched, and functional arms.

"How is the neural-feed holding up?" "It's like I never lost my own arm," he grinned as he held up his right arm, and flexed. "If you can use something like this to help Barb, we'd both really appreciate it," he said.

"I told him we had agreed to try it," Barbara told him as they approached a side chamber off to one side of the main cave.

"First, you'll need to arrange to take a few days off," Batman advised her. "You'll need time for the web to integrate when I operate."

"Operate," she grimaced as they entered the chamber to find a gleaming, teleportation pad much like the old ones they used to use on the old Watchtower once the technology was first integrated into the League's arsenal.

"A misnomer. A series of small incisions that will be little more than needle pricks than not. But I calculate the process will take ten to twelve hours to complete, and another six to twelve for the neural-net to completely bond with your nervous system. I would prefer to keep you under my direct observation for that time. After all, as I warned Dick, this is still an experimental process."

"Well, it is Friday night," Barbara told him. "It wouldn't be the first time I spent a weekend at Dick's….ah, your place."

"Dick's place. I only use the cave," Batman told her firmly. "I did tell you, Bruce Wayne is gone."

"Right," she nodded as Dick maneuvered her chair onto the platform, and stood behind her. Batman set a control on the single panel nearby, and stepped up beside them.

"Here we go again," Dick smiled.

Batman's face remained characteristically grim.

_**B**_

"Holy Moley," a tall, powerful figure in red exclaimed as the teleporter hummed, and the haze faded to reveal the three figures on the pad. "It's true, you did survive," the ageless hero called Captain Marvel remarked.

"Hello, Captain," Batman nodded solemnly. "I assume everyone is waiting."

"Yes, sir," the still boyish man grinned despite the fact his alter ego had long since grown up, and gestured to a hall to the right. "They're all in the main lobby where we set up our….memorial to all the heroes lost over the years. If you'll follow me…."

"I know the way," Batman drawled, and the magical hero gaped as Batman took the lead, his dark cape moving like a living shadow around him.

"But….?" "Don't let it bother you, Cap," Dick said as he let Barbara propel her chair. She still had her pride, and didn't want to look helpless before anyone in public. "He's always like that."

"But he's never been here," the hero reminded Nightwing.

"Trust me, he probably knows more about this place than the guys that built it."

"That would be me, _Nightwing_," Superman's low voice remarked as the colorfully clad hero stepped from behind them, just having come up on the transporter, too. "J'onn and I collaborated for weeks before we came up to actually build this place."

"Well, _you_ know how he is, then."

"All too well. Still, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you lose that arm," Superman asked as the still fit man in Nightwing's costume walked alongside him and Barbara, Captain Marvel leading the way behind Batman who did not even look back once.

"Yes. And I've recently acquired a new replacement. But this costume is only for the service. To honor our friends. Then I go back to being….who I was before."

"Of course. You know, you'd always be welcomed back."

"Unlike you, and Bats, I think I know when to call it quits, Superman," he smiled sincerely. "A man must know his limitations, after all," he told him.

"Never stopped anyone else," a young blonde in red suddenly appeared to eye the odd group. She then promptly vanished with a blur of speed that made it seem she had literally disappeared.

"Looks like Pulse is showing off again," Nightwing chuckled.

"As usual," Superman sighed, and then gestured to an open door Batman had already entered.

Inside the suddenly quiet room, a collection of younger, and much stranger heroes filled the seats of the lobby, though there were a few familiar faces. The silence, Superman knew, had been caused by Batman's entrance. Rumors aside, one really did have to _see_ the man to fully understand his impact on people first meeting him.

He strode up to the podium set up before a wall of plagues, some with pictures of the person immortalized in costume, some with civilian identities shown as well if they were known. He turned away from the mostly youthful audience as Superman went to set beside Diana and Captain Marvel as Nightwing stopped to stand beside Barbara who stayed off to one side, not wanting to insert herself among such elite company.

"You have the right to be here, too, Barb," Nightwing murmured. "Maybe more than most."

"That was a long time ago, D….Nightwing," she told him quietly, still feeling the melancholy of having lost the freedom of her heroic alter ego long before she could even consider giving up on her own. In essence, Batgirl had died, too, the day Joker blew her spine apart, almost killing her.

"Hey, cool, I know you," the young Pulse appeared beside Barbara in a blur of motion to lean over her shoulder. "You were that Oracle chick that used to help the League with the smart stuff. Right?" "Right," Barbara smiled. "Now, I'm just the mayor of Gotham City."

"Really? That is so righteous. Girl power," the young speedster grinned, and pumped her fist before flashing across the room like living lightning to take her seat in the time it took for Batman to turn back to the silent audience that was waiting to hear him out as much from curiosity as well as respect.

He looked across the rows of heroes, and heroines, noting the few familiar faces that appeared timeless even to his eyes, and then at the many newcomers that now filled the Leagues ranks.

"To be human, is to be mortal," he spoke suddenly, and the words sent chills down several spines. "And being a hero does not make you more than human. It makes you even more mortal. But it also makes you a role model, and an example. A symbol for people that desperately need hope when they might not have anything else. If you do not understand that, then you do not belong here," he went on curtly.

"Now, hold on," a young caricature of Superman in a leather jacket spoke up, literally levitating from the floor for a better view.

"Save it. I'm not impressed, and I doubt anyone else is, either."

That shocked the room, and everyone fell silent again as Batman turned to gesture at the wall. "This wall represents _human_ life. And death. It should remind you of the cost that comes with your powers. Some of you might have known some, or even all of the men and women on this wall. You might have known them well, or in passing. I lived, and fought with some of these people, myself. I'm here to remind you of a few of them. Tom Gordon, the then most recent _Catman_. Kyle Rayner, a new Green Lantern with more heart than many I've met. A woman known only as the Huntress, and even a sentient rock known, most appropriately, as Bloc. Last, but no means least, there was a self-styled cowboy that called himself Vigilante. Those five are but a few of the ones we should remember. I picked them out because today I stand here as the sole witness to their brave sacrifices. Sacrifices they did not hesitate to make, because they believed in what they were fighting for. Whether it was here at home, or out in the trackless regions of alien space to help a people just as beleaguered as their own planet at the time."

The room was completely silent now as everyone focused on him as Batman turned to eye those five plaques for a moment before turning back to face them.

"I was there as each one of them died, and I can tell you, they did not turn from their duty even when they knew they were about to die. They stood their ground, and they did what had to be done. In the end, few are ever going to remember them. Even fewer will mourn them. They are going to be names, and maybe faces on a wall that only a few of you will take the time to even visit. They are going to be old history. Soon forgotten as you race forward in the rush to make your own name. Your own legend. But one day, maybe even tomorrow," the Batman told them grimly. "You'll be here, too. A name on a wall. I can stand here and lecture you endlessly, or I can summarize this….ceremony with a single question."

Batman paused and seemed to focus on every single hero present at once.

"When it comes your time to stand, or fall, will you be worthy of being listed among these truly brave, and selfless heroes? Because just putting on a costume, and showing off does not guarantee you are worthy of respect, or remembrance. It is what you _do _in that defining moment that will make you a true hero, or just another adventurer. Think of that next time you answer a call for help."

Batman said no more as he simply eyed them silently, then turned to go.

"Batman, wait," Superman asked as he rose, and was at his side before he cross the room. "I know some of the others would like to speak with you. If you could just….."

"This is not a social club, or a nursery," Batman scowled. "Either they are ready, or they are not. A few words of inspiration are hardly going to make them something they are not ready to be. And if they are ready, then they don't need my adages, or advice to impress them. Now, I have to go. I've work to do."

Even Superman was nonplussed as Batman turned his back on him, and left saying, "Nightwing, I'll leave you to get the mayor home."

"How is the arm," a tall, obviously aging green humanoid appeared beside Dick to look down on him as grimly as Batman.

"It's working fine, J'onn," he told him. "I was thinking of using Dick Grayson as a….test subject, so we could help get the FDA approval all the sooner. It'd look better if Wayne-Tech's CEO wasn't afraid to use his own 'newly' discovered invention, after all."

"Well said. I would like to examine it….and you, extensively at a more advantageous time."

"Of course. You remember Ms. Gordon," he asked as several of the older heroes among the League moved closer to them, overhearing them.

"Naturally. It is always a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gordon. I'm glad to see you're doing well."

"Thank you, J'onn. It's a real pleasure to be here in your company. I think we've got a real promising future growing here in all these fine young men, and women."

"I'm telling you," a gray-haired but young woman in white spandex exclaimed. "That's the same guy. Whip cut his arm off years ago, and he retired."

"Bull," a slightly older teen with power bands of some type on his wrists, and wearing only casual denim. "No one can just grow an arm back. And I know its not mechanical. I'd _feel_ it."

"Chill, Techno," Pulse appeared with a rush of wind. "It's the real Nightwing. Bats tuned him up is the lowdown I got from Big Red," she told him, and then sped off for some other destination.

"I see Pulse is still as…..restless as ever," Barbara remarked as she watched the young blonde take off.

"Yes," Diana nodded as she stood by respectfully silent until then. "She can be almost as annoying as Wally used to be."

"_Used_ to be," someone asked, making a gagging sound.

"As….interesting as this has been," Nightwing said, realizing just how little they had in common with these heroes any longer. "The mayor and I both have duties that require we be elsewhere. Wonder Woman, J'onn, it was good seeing you again."

"And you, Nightwing," Diana nodded as J'onn only nodded. He would be seeing him soon enough again in his human guise as Dr. John Jones, Wayne-Tech's newest research scientist.

_**B**_

"Heard you were back, Bats," the lean, redheaded man drawled as he set his drink down beside his chair, and looked away from the work station he occupied while his fingers continued to type so fast on the keyboards before him that his fingers remained a constant blur.

"I'm sure you have," Batman told the former Flash, and Pulse's father. "How is Linda," he asked, naming his wife of some years.

"Pissed off. I was supposed to be off this weekend, but something came up, and I had to come up, and check on a few things."

"It's still not easy balancing relationships with our kind of duties," he agreed. "Still, you have managed to raise a good daughter."

"Rais-_ing_," Wally grinned. "I'm still not sure she's ever going to mature. But she's only sixteen."

"I recall there were some who felt you were never going to mature either," Batman commented.

"Still haven't," the irrepressible former speedster winked at him. "So, what brought you up here to the hub, as we call it, since you so rudely walked out on your own welcome back?" "I'm not back."

"Right. Heard that one before, Bat-boy. Now, what's up?" "I have some news for you. You saw Nightwing?" "Yeah. Some piece of work. How did you manage that? Tissue regeneration, or was it….?" "Basically, it's an alien form of organic-tech, derived from a blending of nano-tech, and simple tissue cloning."

"Simple," Wally asked with an arched brow.

"Simplistically stated, I know, but I think you can see it obviously works. And I think I can make it work for you."

"Me," Wally asked, suddenly quiet.

"I believe I can give you back your legs. If you want me to try."

Wally spun around in his chair, and beamed like the young hero he remembered. "Do I want you to try? In a freaking second. A nano-second," he exclaimed. "What do I have to do?" "A few hairs should suffice for tissue regeneration purposes. As to the rest, I'll be in touch. I'd also ask you not mention this to anyone else just yet."

"Mum's the word, Bats," Wally grinned ear-to-ear.

But when Wally turned to say more, the dark shadow at his back was gone.

"Well, some things don't change," the redhead grinned, and went back to his work with flying fingers, and put his mind on more practical things than regaining his legs.

Even if he did want to scream, and shout.

And dance. He really wanted to dance.

But only with Linda. The woman he loved, and who loved him, and had stuck by him through all the good and bad of being a full-time hero. The mother of their daughter, who had inherited his accelerated metabolism, and as Linda liked to say, his warped sense of humor.

Pulse, as any impulsive teenager, was trying to find her own way, and her own place in the world as both teenage girl, and a heroine. Incredibly, Wally was certain she was at least half again as fast as he had once been, and her mind easily raced on the same level with ease. She didn't seem to suffer from the problem of adjusting her mindset from slow to fast, and back again as he had often done back in the day. She was born with the ability to focus at any time, on any level, with an instinctive ability that left her far ahead of anyone else around her.

That said, she had yet to learn the discipline he knew she still needed to harness that impressive power of mind and body. If she wanted, she could become a literal super-genius. At the moment, however, she was still concerned with someone named Tomlyn Depp, who apparently acted in holo-vids, and sang his own music, as well as how to drive people crazy with her penchant for pranks.

For the most part, he was simply proud of her. For she had also inherited her parents sense of values, and had a strong sense of right and wrong. Thank heavens, he sighed, thinking of all the young thugs, and anarchists that were otherwise being bred out there of late. Or so it seemed to him as he studied the endless flow of police reports, and other assorted grim tidings from around the world.

Unlike before, he now found himself grinning as he studied those reports. He trusted Bats. Always had. In a creepy-kind of way, he was the one fellow you knew always had the answers. Even if you weren't quite sure how he found them. Yeah, he trusted him, and if he said he could make him walk…._Run_….again, then he believed him.

You betcha!

_**B**_

Batman eyed Barbara as she lay on the lab table on her back, her body completely exposed as she lay naked before him. Aside from some muscular atrophy in her legs, she was still a beautiful woman, and in phenomenal shape considering. Dick had been sent away, for expedience, as well as modesty. He approached the redhead with the small box that held the delicate neuro-web he had crafted, and set it on a surgical tray to the side of her table.

"Now, there will be some discomfort since you prefer not to be unconscious, or anesthetized. Given your spinal, and neurological damage, it will likely be more pressure, than pain. It shouldn't be much though, and it should pass almost immediately."

"You've gone over this a dozen times, Batman," she told him, trying not to blush as the man now sans his cape and cowl stood before her in a lab coat, and surgical mask. "Let's just get on with it."

"All right. Try not to think about what I'm doing, so much as what you are feeling. If you feel anything out of the ordinary, or anything you sense might be wrong, let me know immediately," he ordered her as he stepped forward, and began wiping her lower back down to her still shapely buttocks with a sterile antiseptic.

"Now, I'm about to implant the first neuro-sensor," he told her as he picked up a laser-scalpel even as he opened the small box on the table. "It'll be located about two centimeters above the damaged portion of your spine, so this will likely be the sensitive part of the procedure."

"Just…..oh, God," she moaned as the scalpel opened her back, and exposed her spine beneath the layers of raw tissue.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she rasped in the next instant as she felt something like ice being shoved into the wound. "Just finish it," she said, her hands clutching the edges of the table so tightly her knuckles were beyond white.

"First sensor node is in place," he told her dispassionately, and moved down her spine threading out the tiny filaments connecting the nodes as he planted each into the small incision opened for each sensor.

"Well, I don't feel anything yet, but…..I'm not feeling worse, either," she sighed as he stepped back, studying her face before giving her small sip of a nutrient drink he told her would be beneficial as it would fuel the webs absorption rate, and help activate the artificial neurons.

"I'm not finished. I have three primary nodes to implant, but we have to wait a few minutes while your tissue regenerates before I turn you over.

"After the final three….."

"I know, I know," she murmured wearily. "You told me…..

"You…..jerk," she murmured, trying to stare up at him. "You….drugged me."

"It's for the best," he told her grimly. "I didn't tell you where the third sensor had to go, and it might needlessly embarrass you.

"This way, when you wake up, it will be all over," he told the already unconscious woman.

Naturally, she didn't reply.

Batman studied the synthi-flesh already stitching the first incisions, and knew it wouldn't be long before he could turn the woman over to complete the procedure. He should have it done long before the sleeping redhead could wake. For while two of the three remaining nodes would be easy enough to place into the central nerve clusters at the apex of each inner thigh, the last had to go inside her vaginal canal, and would require precise placement if it was to be effective.

Or so all his models had indicated. At this point, he saw no reason to doubt them. He noted the last incision near her tailbone had been covered over by now as the applied synthi-flesh patch did its work, laving only a tiny black series of threads visible atop her pale flesh. The web would soon be absorbed into her body, though, and should then function as a secondary nervous system that would communicate wit her lower body, reconnecting it to the brain's sensory centers. Satisfied all looked ready, he next carefully turned the woman's limp body over, carefully raising her legs, and strapping them in place after he lifted each ankle into the stirrup he had raised just for that purpose.

Satisfied the woman was still unconscious, and now securely strapped in place for the more delicate placements he had to go, he moved between her spread thighs, and eyed the three dangling nodes left at the base of the lab table Barbara Gordon occupied.

He took note of her smooth, plump sex, and guessed she likely kept it sheared for sanitary reasons more than anything else. He knew some paraplegics trimmed, or removed their pubic hair for that very reason. He lifted his scalpel once more, setting the beam to cut a little deeper this time, and pressed the first of the three sensor nodes into the left thigh. Pressing the synthi-flesh patch over it, he then set the second node in the right thigh after he opened the pale flesh of the atrophying limb.

He remembered her as a dynamic, and committed athlete, and it disturbed him to see her reduced to this helpless creature. Hopefully, he could continue his own experiments, and find a way to truly repair the spinal damage caused by that mad clown's bullet. Not just for her sake, though it would be for her, but for all those like her that were overlooked in life simply because they couldn't do something as basic as standing up, and walking.

Moving to her final sensor node, he tugged the connecting web-filament around her slender right hip, and set it carefully just atop her pale, plump pubis. He then selected a new scalpel that was connected to a small camera that he used to slide inside the unconscious woman's dry, taut flesh. Fortunately, he anticipated the need to lubricate his equipment, and the camera-scalpel easily slid into the tight, dry cavity he intended to try to bring back to life.

He studied a small monitor set near the table, and eyed the camera eye as it angled up and in the direction he wanted to go. Just behind what would be the base of her clitoral hood, he activated the tiny laser, and cut a shallow indention into that once sensitive flesh. He used the camera to inspect it thoroughly before he withdrew the scalpel, and then slid the sensor node into her dark pink flesh with a finger that moved it unerringly into place. He felt it slide into the tiny incision, then used the same finger to press a tiny patch of synthi-flesh into that incision.

He drew a deep breath, and stood back, eyeing the filaments that surrounded her legs, and the right side of her lower abdomen. If he was right, the web on her back would be absorbed within ten to twelve hours. Securing her upper body to the table now, he then drew a sheet over her body for modesty's sake as he left her legs up, and secured to better allow the filaments a constant path to take in their eventual integration into her body.

He went to the nearby stasis-tube as he waited, checking on the medical scans that were still running. From what he could already see, Talia was still in excellent physical condition. There was no denying the indeterminate mass near the very center of her brain, though. He noted several bore holes present in her skull, likely to keep pressure from building up in her skull, and killing her from possible edema as the mass swelled.

The scans were only now focusing on the bio-mass, and it definitely was organic, but they had yet to identify, or classify it. He knew it was obviously life threatening, but didn't want to proceed until he knew everything there was to know about her condition. Considering the size of the mass, she had been put into stasis at virtually the last minute. Once he removed her, if he removed her, there would be little time to act if he was to find a way to save her.

Staring down into that frozen, blue visage of a woman he had always known as alive, and stubbornly persistent to the end, he now felt he better understood Victor's mindset as he turned to more and more bizarre theories to try to save his wife Nora. The hapless scientist had always been more of a victim than a true criminal, though his actions bordered on the insane at times as he did whatever he felt necessary to ensure his wife's survival, and possible resuscitation. Unfortunately, that never happened.

Batman had no intention of allowing Talia to end up the same way.

Leaving the scanner to do its work, he went back to check on Barbara, found her still unconscious, and still secure in her bonds. He rechecked a few ongoing experiments he still had going, and then went back to the main cave. He still had the coming night patrol. And he needed more data on Thomas Thorne that even he could find just yet. He'd check with Tim later. His onetime protégé might just have found something by now. He didn't hold out much hope for Bullock. He was a good cop, but only a fair detective. He was more brute force in his approach, and while it worked in its way at times, he needed more before he confronted the faux Thorne.

He had to know what the man behind the mask was up to this time.

The madman, he corrected himself as he studied the computer's recent updated files on key matters. Ethan Hawke, he noted with grim satisfaction, had left town early that morning. Robert Polanski was showing no signs of taking the hint, though. He still had active shipping registrations for three sizable crates going to Arab countries that shipped this evening.

He would check in on that later. Just to ensure Polanski didn't get away, or those poor women didn't up in some cruel sheik's hands. He noted there were no reports from the city park since Ivy had lowered her living walls and let the people back into her once private paradise. If things were slow enough, he'd have to check back in with her, too.

Just to ensure the woman was holding to the new course he had set before her.

Pulling off his lab coat, having already left the surgical mask behind, he checked his patient one last time before he pulled on cape and cowl, and headed for the Batmobile to start another night. He knew it would be near dawn before Barbara likely woke up. He should be back by then. If not, her bonds would hold her until he returned. By then, the initial web integration should be all but completed anyway.

Triggering the engine's igniters, he left the cave in a burst of speed, his heart pumping as his adrenalin surged in spite of his ever-steady nerves. This, he knew, was what he had been made for long before he met the aliens, or even the other metas on Earth. He was, after all, a creature of the night.

_**B**_

"Just get the crates on board, and get out of here," the pudgy criminal spat as he watched the last crate closed, and locked after the whimpering girls were shoved from trucks into the three shipping containers. "I've already got bids on all of them, and I ain't about to eat fifty million if you blow this deal."

Batman studied the docks, and predictably, there was no sign of the police. Tim had tipped him off that the judge had stalled the warrant. Something to do with a favor owed a certain R. Polanski. It seemed the judge had a pair of blonde twins he had acquired from the vice lord as sex slaves some months past. He apparently wasn't above returning the favor in letting the warrant set unsigned on his desk until Monday. More than long enough for the slime to get the hapless captives on their way, and beyond the reach of the authorities.

Fortunately, Batman didn't need warrants.

Even as the crane whined, and whirred, its hook moving towards the first shipping crate, he was on the move.

Sometimes, he had learned, he didn't even need to be seen to be effective. He swung across the open docks, an unseen shadow, landing in the open door of the crane. The operator froze, gaping at him in fear and disbelief even as a rock hard fist sent him reeling into unconsciousness. Shoving the man aside, he settled into the now vacant seat even as a radio crackled.

"C'mon Pat. Get that hook over here. Hammed is waiting," a wheezing voice came over that small speaker of the radio propped up on the crane's dash.

Batman smiled grimly as he took the controls, and lowered the hook.

Not over the crate, but over the men who scattered as they shouted in fear when the massive chain threatened to slam into more than one man scrambling one way, then another, trying to get away from the dangerous tackle.

Finished with his game, he set a small device under the crane's dash, and hit a tiny button. A flickering red light began to pulse even as he extended his cape, and glided back to the warehouse roof, and there remained hidden even as he leapt down from the roof to the ground, now concealed behind a maze of massive containers.

He switched his cowl's ocular lenses to IFR, and easily made his way through the darkness. Twice he paused to stalk guards, dropping them before they could even see him. Around him, his enhanced hearing picked up on unanswered radio relays, and the growing panic of the men speaking.

That brought a tight smile to his grim visage.

By the time he reached the docks where he spotted someone trying to climb up to the crane, he knew the men were definitely ready to panic. It was time Gotham's underworld remembered there was something to fear in the night again.

Flinging several gas canisters right and left, he triggered the miniature EMD that fried the crane's controls, and left it a massive paperweight hovering over the shipping yard. He scrambled up the side of one nearby shipping crate with ease, then flew down into the smoke as coughing, cursing men howled in growing hysteria.

Then he was there among them, and their fear took on a form almost forgotten in Gotham. Almost, but not quite.

"Damn, Benny was right," someone cursed. "It's the freakin' Bat!"

Then he was in his element. Fists and feet flying, living for the moment as he hammered their flesh and bones into unconsciousness as the men on the ship now realized something was very wrong, and the vessel hummed as it began to pull away from the docks even without its cargo.

By then, all but Robert Polanski were out cold.

He had time.

"I sent word," he growled in the pale thug's drawn face when he grabbed him and lifted him into the air in one hand. "To get out of my city. You didn't listen."

"You….You can't be real," the thug whined as Batman hooked his gaudy, green silk jacket on another dangling hook attached to another crane. With his pudgy hands quickly bound behind him, he wasn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon.

He turned to the ship, and pointed a hand, or so it seemed, and then he was flying toward the Arab ship already pulling away from the docks at safer than normal speed. He landed in the center of the stern's open deck, and rolled even as two men opened fire on him from a hatch near the main cabins.

Drug-tipped batarangs put both men down even as he raced past the common sailors who stood back from the dark-clad vigilante, unwilling to even get in his way, and then he was leaping upward again, seeming to fly as he easily made the third deck, and raced down it unopposed to the captain's bridge.

Bursting in on the three men frantically setting sail for open waters, one of them in traditional Arab dress, he stalked over to the man, ignoring the other two after dismissing them as no threat after a knowing glance, and slammed the Arab prince into a bulkhead. "This is my city," he snarled in the man's face, his tanned features stretched in naked fear. "My people. They are under my protection. _Never _come back again. Understand?" "Yes, yes, by Allah, I am gone forever, I assure you," the man told him quickly.

"Good," he said, and moved to the bridge's open door, ignoring the men around him staring at him uncertainly. He set a foot on the railing, and launched himself out into the dark sky, soaring over the sea back toward land.

"That….is not a man," the Arab prince told his bridge crew. "That is a demon. The mullahs were right. America is a land accursed," he said fervently, vowing never to return.

The police pulled up on the docks even as the Arab ship sailed out of the harbor. They found eleven unconscious men, one whimpering vice lord, and over fifty women still bound in the now opened shipping containers.

Robert Polanski didn't count on his friendly judge this time. He was babbling confessions even as the police let him down, begging the officers, "Don't let him get me," over and over. Not one of the cops didn't know who he meant.

Word was spreading fast. The Bat was back, and he was making up for lost time.

_**B**_

"Pretty good for an old man," a soft purring filled his ear as he squatted undetected in the shadows of a building that gave him a good view of the nearly lost bust.

"I wondered when you'd show," he drawled. "Heard you had another nasty encounter with a certain gene-splicer a few years ago."

"I survived," the husky voice chortled as the dark shape moved closer to him in the sheltering darkness.

"So you did," the cowled head moved slightly to nod at her presence. "Not a bad look for you, Selina. You don't look a day over….."

"Careful, Batman," the dark-furred cat-woman that was truly now part cat growled. "You should know better than to talk about a woman's age. Besides, _cats_ have nine lives. This is only my third, or fourth one. I've lost count," she shrugged with a throaty chuckle as she settled beside the grim hero. "But what about you, lover," she cooed, one clawed hand stroking his shoulder as her tail twitched behind her dark body. "You've never looked better. And I oughta know," she laughed.

"It's complicated."

"It usually is with you," she grinned, and put a furred hand under his chin to turn his gaze back to her. "Do I look that bad to you," she demanded, her half feline, half human features a perfect blending of both.

"Actually, it suits you," he drawled. "You always did have an affinity for felines."

"And you always had the ability to turn me on," she purred, stroking his cheek just below his mask. "It's almost like old times, us meeting out here."

"What's on your mind Selina," he asked curtly.

"You. Me. A nice, cozy bed for a change…." "Since when were you interested in beds, or comfort," he laughed grimly, turning back to watch the last of the hoods being hauled off after the captives were freed, and transported to police headquarters, where they would later be sent back home.

"Even cats like our comforts," she smiled.

"And you just happened to be here tonight? I don't buy it," he told her, finally turning away as the last cruiser left the area.

"Well, I did have two kittens down there. I was coming to help them when you came flying in to save everyone. Nice trick, by the way. I like the look. Anyway, my girls are safe, and here we are," she purred again.

"You really haven't changed, have you," he remarked as he felt her clawed hand slide down between his muscular thighs.

"Wanna find out, lover," she asked, gripping his growing erection.

He smiled grimly as he turned and stood, and lifted his grapple. "Let's see just how….persistent you still are, Selina."

He launched himself into the night once more as the green-eyed feline behind him rose to stretch with a fluid grace as she chortled at his ploy. "Oh, I'm persistent, lover," she grinned, her tongue licking her thin, feline lips as she toed the edge of the rooftop, and then flung herself out into the night without the slightest hesitation.

She chased him for nearly a hour before she finally caught up to him atop a roof overlooking midtown. "You've slowed down, Selina."

"Well, I am getting a _little_ older," the feline anthropoid that had once been a beautiful woman grinned as her tail twitched behind her sleek, still shapely furred body.

"Still, you're not bad. Was it the Collector? Or Tygris?"

"No. Someone that stole his work. He decided to create a new life form. Only I disappointed him."

"Oh?" "My children were born human."

"So," he surmised. "When you mentioned those kittens?" "My daughters. Twins, actually, but quite human. The serum he used to make me this gorgeous creature," she chortled as she stood there, gesturing at her fur-covered body. "Apparently didn't affect my reproductive organs. Or my offspring."

"Curious oversight."

"Isn't it? Of course, it might also have something to do with the fact I had been exposed to an earlier serum, and an antidote," she shrugged, her dark hair swirling about her head as her jutting ears thrust out from her thick mane.

"So, what does Selina Kyle do with herself now," he asked as he stepped closer to her, simply staring into her bright, green eyes.

"Whatever she wants," she smiled. "Actually, my daughters are my front. So when they went missing investigating that slave ring Polanski was trying to create, I tracked him down. I can't exactly go out in public anymore, after all. Not as an ordinary woman. But I still roam the night."

Batman eyed her in silent.

"Doing good, lover. Doing good," she told him with a sultry laugh. "Only I'm afraid an overgrown kitty was no match for filling your very large boots. And speaking of filling," she murmured huskily, pressing her sleek, furry body to his now, and her lips to his though they couldn't quite mesh as before.

"Mmmmm, you are still all man," she said, moving to lap his cheek with her raspy tongue.

"You really want to find out," he asked as he grabbed her still firm ass now covered in soft fur, and pulled her ever tighter against him.

"Lover, I was always yours for the taking," she purred, embracing him tightly now as she sighed in obvious animal contentment. "Only I heard you were into plants now."

"Jealous, Selina?" "Curious," she giggled as gloved hands found and stroked her still ample breasts.

"You know what curiosity got the cat," he replied smugly.

"I know what it's going to get _this_ cat, darling," she sighed, and slid her hands up and down his lean, muscular torso she could tell was all natural.

"Definitely," he growled as he grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, and leaned over her, easily bending her over as she went to all fours.

"Going native, are we," she murmured, glancing over her shoulder as he studied her tail for a moment before he moved closer, one hand lost between his own thighs.

Then she gave a very convincing screech as his large, and very thick shaft stabbed deep into her wet, hot core without hesitation. "I remember," he growled into her ear as he leaned over her, taking her by the shoulders to pull her back to him, "That you liked it rough."

"I like it anyway I can get it, lover," she laughed, and arched her back as her tail wound around their joined bodies as she met his every thrust as he stretched her wide with unrelenting strokes into her almost painfully aroused body.

She had had other lovers in the time since her sometime lover, sometime nemesis had vanished, but none had her reacting as he did. Not then. Not now. Even as he gripped her shoulders, pulling her firmly back on every savage thrust, he all but pounded their bodies together as she felt her heat swelling, and her aching nipples stretching into turgid peaks even though he seemed to be blatantly ignoring them. He simply focused on the pounding rhythm of their mated bodies, holding her firmly in place as Selina began to growl first in frustration, then in increasing pleasure as he simply overwhelmed her not with finesse, or skill, but brute, bestial coupling that was, after all quite suited to her feral form.

She felt a growing intensity between her thighs as his already thick organ seemed to continue to bulge ever fatter in her taut, wet flesh as he stretched her wide on every hard push into her too long neglected sex.

Not that it had been that long, she knew with a brief, sly smile. But it felt so as her newly returned lover now dominated her with his pounding thrusts that continued to drive her higher and higher toward a crescendo of ecstasy until she finally screeched her delight as she actually felt the first, wet splash of his semen as it jetted right into the mouth of her womb. She genuinely purred as he throbbed deep within her tingling, finally sated sheath that had been driving her mad these past years.

She arched her back again, her tail now dangling limp, and seemingly lifeless to one side as she moaned in disappointment when she felt that wondrous shaft sliding out of her, leaving her feeling surprisingly empty after his brief, demanding possession of her. For that was how it had felt.

"Not bad, lover," she glanced over her shoulder, keeping her upturned bottom in the air in silent offering as she smiled back at him. "But are you sure you're really finished," she purred.

"For now. I still have work to do Selina. You know the city as well as I used to. They need to be reminded I'm back."

"Well, I certainly know," she smiled as she finally rose to her feet with a fluid grace that was now truly ingrained in her, and nuzzled his throat.

"Your heart's not even beating hard," she protested as she put a hand to his broad chest. "Is it me?"

"No, it's me. You are as good as ever, _Cat_," he called her with a thin smile.

"Bruce," she murmured, stopping him when he would have left.

"Bruce is dead," he told her, looking back at her with a grimmer countenance just then. "Only Batman came back."

"Oh. Well, I was just wondering. What happened to Tom?" He drew a deep breath, slowly letting it go. "I didn't know you had a connection."

"Wow, that's some admission coming from you. But, seriously, he was a friend." "Tom died saving my life. I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for him. He was a hero to the end," he told her.

She sighed, a faint grumbling in her voice as she said, "The jerk always did jump in over his head."

She looked back at him, but the Bat was gone. There wasn't a trace of him as she scanned the shadows around the building. She supposed she could hunt him down easily enough with her feline senses, but why bother? Some things, it seemed, really didn't change after all.

She had the nagging need to ask him if she were better than Ivy though. Not that she was jealous. Far from it. Very far, she assured herself as she turned to make her own way home, wondering if her daughters would be home yet.

_**B**_

He entered the cave near dawn, having reminded more of Gotham's crumbling underworld elite that he was back. Sooner or later Thorne would make a move, for he knew by now that the man had to have heard he was back. Considering who he was certain Thorne actually was, that was a guarantee in his mind.

He shut down the Batmobile's powerful engine as he climbed out of the vehicle, and heard a muted cry from not far off.

Barbara was definitely awake.

He pulled back his cowl as he headed toward the medical lab where the redhead was likely chafing at the bit, so to speak. He saw her straining at the bonds as she caught sight of him, and shot him a dark glare as he walked over to stand between her spread thighs, lifting up the sheet to study the progress.

"Sorry for the restraints, but you really do need to be still for a little longer," he told her as he noted the filaments of the web around thighs were almost completely subsumed by the pale flesh around them. The strand that wound up around her hip toward her vaginal sheath was still plainly visible, but it was showing the same signs of being absorbed into the woman's body.

"So far, it looks like the process is working just as I theorized," he told her as he lowered the sheet.

"Thirsty? I assure you, this isn't drugged," he told her as he held another cup of the nutrient drink to her lips, a straw sticking out to ease the difficulty of drinking.

"You really are highhanded sometimes," she spat. "Dick was right, you haven't changed a bit."

He snorted. "Dick has rarely been right about anything in his life. He's stubborn, resourceful, and a good man, but he's very often wrong about a great many things."

She glared all the more at him at his pronouncement.

"What makes you say that," she spat.

"Because," he told her bluntly, and suddenly smiled down at her still pretty face. "Wheelchair, or not, I would have never let you push me away if I had still wanted you."

"That was my decision, as much as his. I didn't feel I could give him what he wanted….needed. I'm not exactly a whole….."

"Bull," he spat, staring right into her eyes with an intensity that astonished her. It was a look she had dreamed about back in the early days of her career when she was obsessed with him, and had yet to learn the truth behind the Dark Knight's dual life. She had outgrown him, though, and while she cared for Dick, she had made her decision. How could she accept his constant proposals when she couldn't even give him what he deserved.

A whole woman.

He studied her conflicting emotions as they flashed across her features, and nodded. "You're still highly emotional. Some bitterness is understandable, but letting yourself surrender to self-pity only gives the Joker another victory over you," he told her curtly.

"You think I don't know that," she spat. "Besides, I didn't give up. I made something of myself. As Oracle, and then later, as mayor after dad died. I just wished he could have seen me sworn in," she grumbled.

"Somehow, I think he probably knew."

"I didn't take you to be a religious man," she laughed bitterly.

"I'm not," he told her. "I'm a realist, and I've seen too much to discount the fact we can, and do survive after death in some fashion. How, why, and to what end, I can't say. But we do. Of course, you'll likely find that out before I do."

"What?" "Never mind. How are you feeling," he asked as she finally took a swallow of the offered drink, and surprised herself by sucking the small cup dry again. She hadn't realized she was that parched.

"I feel," she started after releasing the straw. "Well, pretty much the same. No, that's not right. I feel…..edgy. Restless."

"Expected. Do you feel anything from below your waist yet?" She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly, shaking her head. "No. Nothing."

"Well, it's still early. The neuro-web is only now partially absorbed. Once it's completely integrated, it could be up to six more hours, minimum, for the new neural pathways to begin operating properly."

"Well, I'm awake now, so why can't you unstrap me?" "I prefer you remain immobilized until the absorption of the neuro-web is complete. That will ensure a solid foundation for the network if you're not flailing about, constantly moving the filaments.

"It shouldn't be much longer," he assured her, and pushed her red hair back from her brow.

"Do you….really think this will work."

"Theoretically….." "Do _you_ think this will work," she pressed, looking up at him again.

He studied her earnest gaze for a moment, and nodded. "I feel that you have a very good chance of success here. Just stay still, be patient, and let the technology do its work."

"Thank you," she murmured.

"I haven't done anything yet," he frowned.

"Yes, you did. You thought of me when you could have gone on with your crusade without ever even looking at me again."

"I wouldn't do that to you," he told her reaching to stroke her face now with light fingers that teased her sensitive skin.

"Be careful of what you start," she told him with a mocking smile.

He smiled back, and leaned over to kiss her firmly on the lips, his tongue searching her mouth for a long, passionate moment before she gasped, panting slightly, and he withdrew.

"Who's starting what," he asked.

"I….. No, I felt…. I felt it. Down there," she hissed, her eyes wide as she stared at him with brimming tears in her bright green eyes. "Just for a moment, but…..I felt it," she almost wept.

"Let's give you more time. We'll test the procedure later to ascertain just how well it's working," he told her with a faint smile.

"Test," she asked, staring at him a little anxiously as the surprising kiss faded, and she realized what had just happened. "Is….Is that what you were doing? Testing me? It?"

"In part," he told her with the same enigmatic smile.

"In part?" "Only in part," he added, and patted her cheek. "Rest, I'll check on you later. You need to stay still for at least another two hours."

"I'm counting the minutes," she told her gruffly.

"Count to yourself. I still have other work to do," he told her just as gruffly.

_**B**_

He had meant to see Ivy before he had finished for the night. Things had not worked out that way. He had to stop Polanski personally, then Selina had popped up, surprising him. Then he had surprised himself with that surge of raw, quite literally animalistic lust as he had taken her as surely as he had taken Pamela that first night.

He was going to have to some more _internal_ study on his new body, because such blatant sexual antics might have characterized his Bruce Wayne persona's mask, but never the Batman. Yet he was reacting strongly to certain females, and usually without warning. Almost as if he had some inborn reproductive drive built right into his new body. Something to consider if he encountered other women in the future.

Not if. When. He still had to deal with Barbara, and then there was Talia, still waiting a cure that might, or might not save her life.

He was definitely not finished with Selina. That woman had always been a confusing thorn in his side. Sometimes enemy, sometime ally, she always managed to get under his skin at odd times. There were times when he might have even considered her a potential perfect mate. They had shared their secrets along their long, and twisted encounters, and once he had finally revealed Batman's other face, she proved herself loyal. She had been delighted, as if handed some present. Yet she proved her loyalty in that she never betrayed him. Never turned on him, even when her path still strayed dangerously away from the law.

Finishing his new civilian disguise after stripping himself of his costume, he eyed the new face that he hoped would keep anyone from taking him as Bruce Wayne incarnate in case someone out there spotted him, and remembered his face. Only then did he head for one of the civilian cars kept in the cave for covert duties. He pulled out of the cave's hidden drive, and drove leisurely, if methodically toward Gotham City Park. It had been several days since he last encountered Pamela Ivy. He hadn't heard anything from her, but he was not one to ignore matters best kept firmly in hand.

He reached the park in record time, noting the families in the park, some lounging, some strolling. He spotted a lean blonde jogging past him as he parked near the jogging path that was once again open, and noted he had no reaction to the otherwise attractive woman.

Interesting.

Still, he had other matters to tend here. He climbed out of the car, putting coins into a meter, and then walked toward the park, cutting right across the grass, and toward the hydroponic gardens where he was sure Ivy would be hiding herself.

He was wrong.

He was halfway across the grassy meadow that grew thick and lush here now when he heard a woman cry out, and an angry shout. He turned to see a familiar green-clad form standing beside a brunette kneeling on the grass next to a child, and before them, a very frightened man was literally bound in place by very thick, very thorny vines.

"…..you really want to be a good boy, now don't you," Pamela asked as she shook a finger almost playfully in the man's face. "I don't expect to see you in this park picking on my friends any more. So if I let you go, you'll leave right away. Right?" "Anything you say, lady," the man whimpered, staring at the long, sharp thorns that threatened him, but came nowhere near him though he could see the man might not realize that as they seemed quite large where they rose right in his face.

"I swear," he added when she cocked her head, as if considering his promise. "I'll even go to the cops. I'll confess. Just….please, don't kill me."

"Silly boy," Pamela actually giggled. "I don't do that any more. But I can be very cranky," she told him meaningfully.

"Ms. Ivy," a policeman suddenly appeared on horseback, riding up to them. "Caught another one?" The disguised hero almost smiled as the former eco-terrorist smiled at the officer, and gestured, letting the captive free to drop on his face as her vines just vanished back into the ground that had sprouted them.

"He tried to rob this poor lady, and scared her child half to death," she told the mounted officer who stepped down to cuff the man before radioing for a squad.

"Are you okay now," she turned to the woman and child who were both picking up items spilled from her purse that had been grabbed before Ivy came along.

"We….We're fine, th-thank you," the young mother nodded, still a little unsettled, and likely still a little fearful of Ivy, Batman guessed as well. This was a new side of her, he knew.

"Good," Ivy smiled as she stood up again, and looked down at the little girl. "And please don't be scared of coming back. This is going to be a safe park for families. I promise," she said, and turned to walk toward the camouflaged hero.

"I was going to ask you if you were here to cause trouble," she said as she approached him. "But then I saw your eyes, and I knew who you were. You can't hide _those_, you know, no matter how clever your makeup is," she said quietly as she walked right up to him.

"So I've been told."

"I wondered when you'd be back," the redhead smiled at him, daring to touch his face.

"I told you I'd be back. I'll be checking in from time-to-time, and….to see if you need anything."

"I have all I need here," she laughed, turning around to gesture at the park now once more full of people. "I'm actually making friends, Ba…."

She stopped herself, grinning. "What do I call you when you're disguising yourself?"

"Call me….Thomas," he suggested, borrowing his father's name impulsively.

"Is that….? No, of course not," she answered herself. "But….will I ever get to meet the real you," she asked him impulsively.

"You already have," he told her.

She stared at him a moment, her smile fading slightly. "Why does that make me sad," she asked him, touching his altered features again.

"Why should it?" "Thomas," she spoke the name as if trying it out. "I'm pregnant."

His eyes instinctively dropped down to her smooth, flat belly.

She laughed at his reaction. "You can't see it yet," she laughed. "I'm still mostly human, you must know. It'll be a few months. But…..it's yours…."

"I know," he nodded, and touched her face in turn. One of the few men on the planet, if not the only man, who could do safely. "I am glad," he told her. "Not just for the child. For your change of heart. For your help in making the city a little safer."

"That's what I want. To make the entire city safe for people like that woman, and her child."

"Good."

"What about our child," she asked.

His lips thinned. "I don't know. We'll figure it out together," he promised her.

"I…..I guess marriage is out of the question," she asked somberly.

"I doubt either of us are…..normal people," he told her somberly. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I'm….an ordinary man any longer."

"I knew that the night you….came to me," she smiled, her eyes raking his features as if seeking to memorize them.

"I mean…..I don't know how my…..biology will react with yours. But I will be with you, Pamela," he told her sincerely, cupping her cheek as he had that night. "I'll be watching you both."

She didn't seen aware of some of the people in the park gaping at her as they embraced, and even kissed. She didn't notice several anxious stares as the kiss lingered, but Thomas didn't sicken, or pass out. He didn't die. He merely stepped back, announcing, "I have to go. If you ever need to reach me, beep this number," he told her, giving her a private pager number that was hooked to the Batcave's communications system, and would reach him wherever he was at the time. "Try to reserve it for emergencies only, if they come up," he told her with a knowing smile as the spectators gaped at the seemingly impervious man who turned to go, leaving Ivy standing behind him with tears shining in her eyes.

He, of course, had seen everyone. Noticed them all. Heard the murmurs of disbelief.

He was still a little stunned himself by her news though, and put off the reactions of those around him as he sauntered casually from the park to reach his car even as the time ran out on the meter. An officer watched as the old sedan drove away even as that last tick sent the red flag up, and sighed. Couldn't be lucky every time, he decided, and went on his way. Batman's mind remained focused on the possible implications of Ivy's pregnancy. Had his suspicion of a reproductive instinct been accurate? If so, what triggered it? He had been around more women than just Pamela, or Selina since his return. He had not reacted to them as he had those two women from out of his past.

He definitely had much to think on.

Ivy, meanwhile, returned to her own duties. She was keeping the park safe for families. Because very soon she would finally have a family of her own. She didn't know what kind of family it would be, but she would finally have one. And that meant everything to her.

_To Be Continued……_


	3. Chapter 3

**THE BAT: **

**SECRETS **

**By LJ58**

_**Part 3:**_

Barbara looked down her body, still feeling peculiar over having Batman standing there between her legs as he ran a peculiar, humming device she had never seen between her thighs. He said nothing as he continued to inspect her inner thighs, and her dark corral slit he had earlier examined with such intensity she thought he might just end up doing far more before he finished.

"So, how does it look," she asked, feeling a little anxious yet as she lay there with her legs in the air, and being strapped down without being able to move much at all.

He looked up at her past the swell of her still firm breasts, and mostly muscular upper body, and merely nodded. "Promising," he told her, and set the odd device aside, and now squeezed some clear lubrication into his palm.

"Um, what are you doing now?" "Acid test," he told her with a faint smile, and lubricated his fingers on his right hand before he slid first one, then two fingers right into her long unused slit.

She gave a soft grunt, astonished to feel the tug and stretching of her most intimate parts after so long, but she knew he wanted a thorough examination of her body as it progressed through recovery, so tried not to think too much of what he was doing.

"I…I can actually feel your fingers," she told him as she dropped her head back on the table, and knew, too, her open puss was actually starting to react, to lubricate itself for the first time in many years. "It's……wonderful," she moaned, her eyes closing as she just lay there and let his fingers slide back and forth for several minutes.

She even gasped when a third finger suddenly slipped into her increasingly moist channel, and Batman continued to slide his fingers deeper into her spongy, pliant flesh. Every teasing stroke brought his thumb to her suddenly responsive clit. She was so distracted by the growing pleasure she had not felt in so long that it took her bemused, and slight befuddled mind several minutes before something occurred to her.

"B-Batman, are you…..Are you fingering me," she rasped, wishing she could push her surprisingly sensitive groin up to meet those delightfully knowing fingers.

"Figured that out, did you," he smiled smugly as he continued to work her liquid flesh with stronger, and more direct shoves into her now opened, and well-lubricated sex.

"This….This is part of….your test," she asked.

"No," he said, his fingers pulling back to leave her feeling achingly empty after what seemed to her a lifetime of numbness. "This is," he chortled, and drove this rampant shaft right into her as he made her cry out in shock and bliss as one. I think an acid test, as it were, will tell us how successful we can expect this experiment to be," he told her as he pushed himself deeper into her sex-starved body.

Nothing had prepared her for this moment as her sex-starved body trembled violently in response as she shouted again as he pulled out, then shoved his thick shaft right back into her hot, wet hole that easily welcomed the invader, just as it had the first time.

"Oh…Oh, God, Bruce," she called him this time as she looked up at his face. "We….We shouldn't be doing this," she protested, her body straining to move, though she was still bound, and helpless to move the parts of her body that were still under her control.

"No?" "No," she moaned as he continued to stroke her clit with one hand while the other reached up to explore her fat, round orbs as he hunched into her immobilized body with grim determination. "But…don't stop," she ordered him in the same breath. "It feels….so good.

"Finally, I feel….."

Her words faded as she now resorted to soft grunts and groans to vocalize her growing bliss as the grim hero continued to drive his thick cock into her naked sex, at times even nudging her cervix, and virtually penetrating the mouth of her womb.

He pulled back each time, thinking abruptly of the other two women he had recently fucked. _Claimed_, came to mind even as his questing rod stabbed deep, swelling as his body bucked, and began to pour his thick, life-giving seed into Barbara's womb. He continued to plow her wet slit the entire time, hesitant to give up his new lover as he teased her fat nipples in turn even as he forced his seed into the redhead's hungry sex. The need to do so overwhelmed all else just then, and later he might realize it fueled his growing certainty there was more to his new body than he had realized after all this time.

Still, as he stood before the redhead, driving his cock into her now reawakened body, nothing else mattered beyond his immediate possession of her. Even as he finished emptying his cum into her ripe womb, he kept driving his still hard rod into her, forcing the whimpering moans and grunts of helpless pleasure from her lips.

When her body finally went into a series of uncontrollable spasms, and she was screaming in mindless ecstasy, he finally withdrew, and put away his still partially erect shaft. Even as a part of him surveyed his new conquest with grim satisfaction, another part of his ever analytical mind was trying to understand just when he had lost control of the animal side of his nature. For one minute he had been dutifully studying the progress Barbara was making, and the next he was fucking her like a madman.

Something was definitely off. Something that had not come up in the careful initial study of his new body in all the time he had been living in…..

Seclusion.

That could have been part of it. No one knew he was here at the time. He had definitely not been around any women in all those years. Could it be a gross overcompensation of some sort by his instincts being hyper-sensitized by his new body just the way his senses had been augmented? Even as he stared down at Barbara, he knew, absolutely knew, he had just impregnated her.

As he had Pamela, _and _Selina.

This, he decided, was getting out of hand.

"That….That was wonderful, Bru…Batman," she sighed, looking down the naked slope of her own body at him as he simply stood there lost in his own speculations.

He smiled wanly, choosing to say nothing about her pregnancy just then. She'd learn soon enough. Instead, he gently cleaned the swollen, ravaged slit still dripping with his seed, and on impulse, kept the damp cloth to study the fluids. It might give him another clue into the inner workings of this strangely human, yet not quite human form he had been given.

"I think we can safely say the experiment is likely a success," he told her blandly as she stared up at him with the same adoring gaze Ivy used now.

"Yes," Barbara smiled. "And I cannot wait to thank you again, and again," she cooed quite seductively.

He didn't smile as he merely turned away to preserve the semen on the cloth he was holding for future study. This was an aspect of his new incarnation that definitely required closer scrutiny. What, for instance, had draw him to Pamela, Selina, and Barb, while he had all but ignored the other women he had seen, and encountered over the past week? He had to find out. Before he ended up with a harem of pregnant women feeling bound to him.

Even as Bruce Wayne in his heyday, that would have been a horrific vision. He could just imagine what Alfred would have had to say about that, too. He felt a surge of grief for his old friend, proving that in part, at least, he was still human enough to feel those things that he should.

"I'll call Dick to let him know…."

"I'd prefer you didn't," Barbara stopped him as he started to leave the chamber he used as a medical clinic.

"Why not," he asked as much out of personal curiosity, as from a need to explore this phenomena more deeply.

"Well, there really wasn't much between us anymore than friendship, and a few poorly remembered liaisons anyway. When you mentioned this….possible procedure, we thought it might bring us back to where we were. On a…sexual basis, anyway. But I know now….I just feel….I could never go back to him. Not after knowing _you_," she smiled at him, looking every inch the seductive woman despite being bound atop a examining table.

"I see," he murmured. "Well, you're still mayor of Gotham, so in a few more minutes, I'll help you up, and get you back upstairs so you can get back in time to recover for your….normal duties."

"You want me to go," she actually pouted.

"For now," he told her. "You should….continue as is normal for you," he told her, borrowing the tact he had inadvertently used on Ivy that first night. "We don't want people connecting us, after all.

"Especially one man in particular."

She paled, then scowled. "Of course. You're right. I just hope you nail him quickly. I have to admit, I wouldn't mind seeing that bastard fry one more time," she told him in an unexpectedly fierce tone.

He understood all too well.

"We'll get him," he told her as he came back with her clothes before he started unstrapping her.

"I really mean it," she told him as she sat up with some effort after tugging her lower limbs about on the table once the stirrups were pushed out of the way.

"Mean what," he asked her.

"That I'd like to do this again," she told him with a smile as he helped her dress.

"I'll certainly keep that in mind on my….slow nights," he told her blandly as he then carried her to her chair, and only then signaled Dick, who would be waiting above anyway, knowing his former partner, and ward.

_**B**_

"How very interesting," the reedy voice sniggered as jaundiced eyes watched the flickering images as the small speaker gave a static-filled, but intelligible transmission of words that explained much, and yet hinted at greater mysteries.

"Master," a dark-clad figure asked.

"Imbecile," the skeletal hand waved the servant aside when he stepped between the watcher in the scarlet robe, and the monitor that showed a dimly lit chamber where a cloaked figure was preparing to go once more back into the night.

"I…Forgive me, master. I brought your medicine," the cowed servant bowed low, holding out a small tray with several small cups of various colored liquids.

"Yes, yes," Ra's glowered as a trembling hand reached for the preservatives that kept his withering body going despite his great age that was rapidly catching up to him.

He finished the necessary doses, then turned back to the monitor. "Now that I know the how. I just need access to the technology," the old man smiled cruelly as he studied the now empty screen.

"He has secured the cave since our visit, master," another servant told him. "Our scouts indicate the tunnels we have utilized in the past have been closed, and the others secured with a technology we cannot yet penetrate."

"More of his….off-world gifts, no doubt," the cadaverous features smirked. "Still, there is a more…direct path into the detective's lair. Even if it might seem….roundabout. Call the mercenary. Tell him….I have a job for him."

"Yes, master," the second servant bowed to Ra's al Ghul as the ancient assassin continued to smile at the transmission that came from the hidden camera in Talia's life support cylinder.

Operating on a cloaked frequency that randomized its transmissions, it had obviously escaped the detective's attention since it was still operating. He had learned just enough from the encrypted broadcasts that he realized the Batman was no longer truly just a man. Perhaps no longer even human. True, human enough in visage, and manner, but it was obvious he was now truly beyond the scope or mortality of ordinary beings. How ironic that he had found what Ra's had been seeking for generations, that he had gained through his sacrifice what Ra's would have wrested by force from the gods.

Still, if he moved carefully. Cleverly. He would still have the technology that now powered this new Dark Knight. He would have immortality, and freedom from the uncertainty of the Lazarus Pits, and the fear of death itself.

And if a few more common drones had to help pave that path with their blood, then so be it.

_**B**_

Richard yawned as he swung his chair away from the desk, and the endless parade of tedious reports that now comprised his day as Wayne-Tech's CEO and heir to the Wayne empire. Of course, his usual routine was changed somewhat by J'onn's insistence on running his new appendage through every test he could think of, and then some.

Incredibly enough, it bled when cut, the red fluid indistinguishable from his own blood, and he could actually feel pain, or anything else his original limb might have felt. If anything, it was actually more sensitive, feeling imperfections even in something as smooth as the polished wood surface of the antique desk he now sat behind.

J'onn found nothing that might actually prove a hindrance to the future product testing before submitting the usual trials through the AMA and FDA for public consumption. If anything, he was surprised to find it was a perfect blend of organic technology, and seemed to show no downside at all. If anything, it was true miracle. And as to its integration into his body, he couldn't tell where his original arm had ever been severed now. It truly had become a part of him, and in only a few days. He was already so used to it, it almost seemed as if he had never lost his arm.

Were it not for the suddenly recurring nightmares that followed that last battle with Whip.

He grimaced, ignoring the view of the city from his office, and looking farther out, across the horizon where the sun was just starting to set. It was almost eerie how things had changed so much, or so fast after Batman had once more spread his shadow over the city. The corrupt and criminal were fleeing in fear, and people were starting to regain hope Gotham might just yet outgrow the title of the most dangerous city on the planet it had gained in the past decade.

He had yet to actually see it for himself yet, but he had heard Ivy was turning the park into a playground for families, and not one mugger dared trespass there. Not since she had taken an active interest in keeping them out. There were, naturally, heated editorials demanding the apparently penitent murderess be brought in to stand trial now that she was acting so civic minded, but even Bullock had agreed that as long as she wasn't doing anything criminal now, they should just leave her alone.

Or as the ever blunt commissioner put it, "Do you clowns _really_ want to piss her off again?"

He sighed, feeling oddly restless, and knowing well enough part of the problem. True, a part of him missed the 'scene.' but he really was well rid of it. He was getting too old for that life now, even if he was still in better shape than most men half his age. What really annoyed him was that even after Barb had come back with glowing reports of how well her procedure seemed to be working, she still wouldn't let him back into her life.

He could almost understand her previous arguments, but now, when she could apparently feel long-lost sensations again, and was no longer calling herself just half a woman, she still wouldn't let him see her. Not in any personal capacity. Publicly, Wayne-Tech's CEO remained a fierce political ally for the mayor, and her progressive projects in the city that had taken on a new life with Batman back to protect the workers, and families that were now taking back the old neighborhoods once again.

Turning from the panoramic view from his modern office, he started to call it a day when the intercom buzzed. Knowing it could be anyone, from anywhere, he snapped the switch impatiently, and asked, "What is it, Mary?" "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Grayson. There's a man on the line that won't give his name. He says he has important information for you, though. Something about a….project called Nightwing?" "Nightwing," Dick rasped. "Put it through," he ordered her crisply, then waited for the ring before he snapped on the frequency scrambler that would keep anyone else from overhearing this cryptic call.

"Grayson," he snapped at whoever was on the line, knowing there was only a handful of people on the planet that knew his other identity.

"Hello, Birdboy," a chilling voice from his nightmares sniggered. "Take a look outside."

He turned, and looked out the window. Thirty floors below, in the middle of the street, a tall, blonde in silver spandex, with glittering silver eyes looked up at him as he held a cell phone to his ear. "Hiya, Birdboy," he waved with one hand, holding the phone with the other. "Heard you grew a new wing." "I don't know what game you're playing, but…." "Save it, Birdboy. We both know who you are. Or were," came the mocking snigger. "I want that new wing for my collection. Sooooo," the swaggering meta glowering up at his office drawled. "Either you come out and play, or I'm going to start carving my way up there one floor at a time. And you know I can."

"Just what do you expect….?" "Five minutes. I'm counting," the murderous meta spat, and tossed his cell behind him to shatter on the concrete walk as a growing circle grew around him. In Gotham, people were long used to costumed madmen, and this visitor definitely had the look.

Dick glared down at him, then walked away from the window. Swearing, he triggered a hidden stud on a corner of the old desk, and opened a panel he had not used in many years. Stepping inside, he closed the dusty panel behind him, and reached for his tie.

"Looks like the old man was right," Whip cackled as Nightwing swooped down from atop the Wayne building to land lightly before him as if he had not been sidelined years past. "All I had to do was shake the nest, and the birdie came running. Oops, or should I say flying," the meta sneered as he flung both hands out, psychic whips lashing out from both palms even as he spoke.

Dick cart-wheeled out of range, and then fell into a low squat before launching himself at the man, both hands flinging his distinctive batarangs at the cold-blooded meta's palms. Only as fast as he managed to sever those deadly tendrils of energy, Whip reformed them, and lashed out at him once again.

Spinning in midair to avoid them, he landed right at the feet of the mercenary half the world wanted for dozens of murders, and yet could not hold if they found him. His psychic whips made him literally unstoppable, since he could form them at will, and they could penetrate, or cut through anything.

That did not stop Dick from trying.

He barely hesitated as he sent a hard chop to the man's right shoulder, immobilizing his arm for a brief second as he sent a curved palm up under Whip's chin, rocking him back several steps before the man could recover.

"Not bad, birdy," Whip grinned, licking at the trickle of blood that fell from his own split lip. "I see you aren't too rusty at all.

"Now, let's move right to the coup de grace, shall we? I have a buyer for that wing, but I think I'll take a leg this time, too," he grinned, and held up his left arm, focusing all his power to form a thick tendril of living energy that he sent flashing out at him.

Faster than even he could even think of it, his right hand flashed out, and grabbed the psychic whip, and held tight.

Whip's silver eyes rounded hugely. "How….? No one can do that," he howled in protest, trying to pull his whip back from Dick's clenched hand. "No one!"

"Just call me nobody," Dick growled, and put more than ten years of therapy into the tug that brought Whip's stunned body flying toward him at the end of his own whip just before his hard, right fist slammed into the meta's jaw, closing his eyes as he landed unconscious on the street before the triumphant hero.

"Good job," a gritty voice crackled in his earpiece he had put on out of habit. "Now, blindfold him. He gains his power from light absorbed through the retinas, and releases it the same way."

"I am not going to even bother asking how you know that," Dick grumbled quietly as the spectators cheered this hero's apparently triumphant return.

"Never mind. Get back up to your office. The police are on the way, and they are going to want to know what business that lunatic had with you. Or rather, Richard Grayson."

"What about…..?" The Batmobile slid to a halt behind them, and out leaped the usually nocturnal hero. "I'll take this one from here. He's too dangerous for Gotham PD to hold," he said, noting the cuffs and blindfold already on the still unconscious villain.

"If you were here already…." "Go," the grim vigilante growled, and dumped the meta into the passenger seat of the batmobile before he sped off without showing any hesitation himself.

Richard Grayson turned from his window just fifteen minutes later as several police officers entered the office, already barking questions as he began to feed them the usual pat answers. Apparently, he told them, the bizarre mercenary had heard of his new prosthetics program, and being a known collector of limbs from his victims, and other famous personages, he had wanted it stopped since it made him feel he was being somehow cheated of his mementoes.

Or that was the story he had been fed by Batman even as he had sped away with the villain in custody.

As to Nightwing, he didn't know anything about him, or that the Batman had obviously been staking out Wayne-Tech on some hunch. He was grateful that the city's champions had been around to help defend his employees from the obvious madman. For the time being, Dick Grayson's identity, or rather his former identity, was safe.

What he couldn't figure out was why Bruce, why _Batman_, had taken Whip. Why take the psychotic assassin wanted by half the world's government, when surely the police could handle him once he adequately restrained?

_**B**_

The sleek, black car slid to a halt along an overgrown, dusty lane somewhere in the country. "Where are we," the blindfolded thug demanded as Batman leapt out, then hauled him out to land in a heap beside the still idling car that sounded like an idling jet engine ready for flight with just a rev of the turbines. "What's going on? Is that you, Birdboy?" "Wrong guess, assassin," Batman growled, dragging the man toward the sheltering trees that held darker shadows beneath their recesses despite the bright sun overhead.

"The Bat," the silver-eyed man hissed, looking around blindly once he was released again to go sprawling in the damp foliage lining the forest floor. "I thought you avoided the daylight. Like….Drac, or something."

He chortled. It was not a pleasant sound as he knelt to test the bonds holding Whip's wrists and ankles together, leaving him helpless. Not so helpless as the makeshift blindfold wrapped around his eyes, though.

"Wrong bat, assassin."

Whip definitely did not like the way that voice sounded.

"You know I'm going to fuck'n kill you and Bird-boy both the minute I get loose. And I will get loose. No one can hold me."

"You and I are going to have a chat. Now, the thing, assassin, is I already know most of the answers, so I will know when you're lying. And lying will have definitive consequences."

"Screw you. Just take me to jail, and I'll be out before you can change your tights, old man."

"Now, that's not being very cooperative. Not at all," the cold, menacing voice said just before something sharp, and white-hot pierced his left eye. "I don't like that," the voice informed him blandly, though it sounded like steel grating on steel in his ears.

Blinding light filled his dark vision for a moment, and then it went absolutely black. Not gray, like before. Black. And for the first time since Whip had found he could kill with impunity, he was afraid. Truly afraid.

"Shall we try again? With a little more cooperation," came the taunting voice out of the darkness.

_**B**_

"The assassin failed, master," a servant informed the withered husk in the special life-support apparatus before the endless rows of monitors, and computer screens by which Ra's was now forced to handle his once global empire. An empire that was crumbling rapidly with rumors of his poor health, and imminent demise.

"Obviously, you dolt," the man who had once tumbled kings and empires on his own grumbled. "Fortunately, I have….contingency plans in motion. I have learned a few things in dealing with the detective over the years. One can never underestimate him, or his fledglings. They have an annoying propensity for ripping victory from my hands at every opportunity."

"Then you….expected the assassin to fail?" "Did I not just say so?" "But….I do not understand, master. Why send him at all if you knew….?"

Ra's al Ghul glowered at his servant. The younger generation had no concept of strategy, or gamesmanship. It was one of the simpler joys that he had missed when the detective had apparently been slain on some alien battleground. He had actually mourned the man, and even attended Wayne's memorial service when they finally declared him dead, his people having arranged some nonsensical accident which claimed the playboy's body, but accounted for his demise.

"Never mind. Just go see Sayid. He knows what to do."

"Yes, master," the lackey bowed low, ever respectful despite his wasted condition. His minions had seen him rise phoenix-like too often to count him dead when breath still filled his lungs, and his heart still beat.

"This very well may be our endgame, detective," Ra's murmured as he felt the uncomfortable awareness of his own mortality after so many centuries. Even his stopgap measures were beginning to fail of late again.

He had to find another way.

He had to survive.

It was his destiny.

_**B**_

"I just don't get it," Richard told him as he came into the cave that night before Batman had left on his nightly patrol. "I _caught_ it. I actually held his energy whip, and that was supposed to be impossible. Those things he creates are supposed to cut through…..virtually anything."

"Apparently not," Batman drawled as he eyed Richard flexing the arm as he followed him to the equipment he had been upgrading lately.

"There's more. When I tossed my batarangs….."

"You were faster than normal?" "Yes," Richard nodded adamantly. "I barely managed to toss two with my left hand, while my right launched six before I could even throw the others."

"I anticipated this," Batman told him. "Your bio-tech limb is, simply put, a more efficient appendage than your other arm could ever be. It processes neural impulses faster, allowing you to move faster, and harnesses your own adrenalin to fuel your strength, and movement on a level you aren't used to as yet. Practice. You'll get the hang of it soon enough."

"Right," Richard muttered as he watched his onetime mentor disappear back into the shadows. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what you did with him?" "No," the voice emanated out of those shadows as he did something Richard couldn't see, working over equipment in the darkness without using light to guide him. The man, he decided, was getting scarier every day. Every night.

"By the way, I hear half of Gotham is wondering who was in the park the other day."

"Oh?" "Yeah," he nodded. "Seems Ivy caught some thug, and then this strange guy shows up, kisses her silly, and disappears before they could even get his name. It's rather funny."

"What's funny about that?" "We both know you can't even touch that woman without suffering some serious toxic reactions," Dick snorted. "And I meant funny as in strange. Not…." "I knew what you meant. As you are, as you say, out of the business, don't let it bother you. Pamela is neutralized. She won't hurt anyone so long as they leave her alone."

Richard said nothing as his onetime mentor continued to work in the darkness. "Are you going to tell me anything," he asked as the Batman came out the shadows in full cape and cowl, looking ready for business. "Going out again?" "I have a stop I have to make."

"I don't suppose it would do any good to…..? No, I didn't think so," Richard sighed as the man swept past him, and leapt into the Batmobile to speed away without a backward glance.

"Some things just don't change," he muttered as he headed for the hidden stairway, and Richard Grayson's planned evening.

_**B**_

"Hello, Tim," a gravelly voice drawled as the young district attorney gave a startled gasp.

"Damn," he hissed, turning from the fridge where he held two glasses, and a bottle of wine in one hand he had just pulled from the appliance's lower drawer. "You almost made me…. Never mind, I know what you want," he said, and he gestured with the hand holding the glasses toward the room he used as an office at home.

"I hope you had better luck than I did," the grim vigilante drawled. "I know what's going on, I just cannot prove it. Yet."

"Well, technically I can't either. The DNA results are enough to make Joker's death unlikely. The real Joker, at least. But there isn't anything I can find on any recent medical records on Mr. Thomas Thorne to link him to the clone. I did find out that Rupert Thorne is still alive, under the alias of….."

"Robert Rose," the shadowy detective nodded. "I needed confirmation before I went knocking on windows at a retirement home," he told the surprised D.A.."

"Never stopped you before," Tim muttered, turning his gaze in the direction of his wife's voice who had called out for him. Too late, she appeared in the door, and gaped as the darkly caped hero simply stared back at her. "Mrs. Drake," he nodded curtly.

"My God," the shapely brunette gasped. "You _are_ real."

Tim sighed as his bride Ariana Drake simply stared at the Bat as he took the disk that had the little he had found on the searches he had made. "I hope this helps. By the way, Polanski is being extradited on federal charges. D.C. has been after him for sometime, it turns out, under another alias."

"I know," the Batman drawled blandly. "I sent them the tip."

"Figures," he murmured, and looked to his wife, who glanced his way with wide, dark eyes.

"When they both looked back, the Batman was gone. As silently as he had come.

"You actually know him," Ariana exclaimed, still looking astonished.

"I don't think anyone really knows him," Tim said, lifting the glasses, and wine he had brought into the room. "Now that work is officially over, though," he smiled. "Shall we continue our celebration?" His pretty wife of just three months grinned. "Naturally," the woman who had been his on again, off again girlfriend for some years now grinned. "Just tell me one thing," she asked, smiling coyly. "Is he really….the _real _Batman? I've heard…."

"He's the one," Tim sighed, wishing he had never told her he had once been Robin, and had once spent the nights fighting crime at Batman's side before the days of the old Justice League faded, and the boy became a man with other crusades to follow.

He had wanted to be honest with her, though. He had wanted her to understand all those missed dates, and mysterious calls.

Ariana nodded as she slipped an arm around her husband. "But you're not going back?" "Not a chance. Being the city's D.A. is challenge enough for me these days. And I know you remember what happened to Nightwing."

She shuddered, recalling the night the hero had shown up bleeding to death as a crude tourniquet kept his amputated arm from bleeding out. If he hadn't sought them out, she knew that young man might never have lasted long enough to have gotten proper care. She had never revealed she had figured out who Nightwing was, or by process of elimination, who Batman had been, but now she was wondering. If Bruce Wayne was dead, how did the Batman come back stronger, and better than ever? She wasn't going to ask.

She refused to give in to her own curiosity. Only one thing really concerned her just then.

"Promise you won't go back," she said instead.

"I promise. You're my life now, Ari," he told her earnestly. "I'm just doing some…research for him. That was always my strong suit anyway, and he knows it."

"Good," she smiled, her robe falling open to reveal the lacy nothing she was almost wearing. "So, about that celebration?" "Mmmmm, right," he grinned, his eyes drawn to his wife's charms like steel to a magnet. "Definitely need to celebrate," he told her, and almost dropped the bottle, and the glasses he held.

_**B**_

"Master," came the transmission of Ra's al Ghul's most trusted aide.

In this century, at least.

"Report," the ancient assassin rasped as he reached for the communication switch with a trembling hand. "What is your progress?" "We have her, master," Sayid replied smugly. "It was child's play to circumvent her guards, and her security. We should arrive within the hour."

"Excellent. Do not harm her.

"That pleasure is reserved for myself," he chortled as he leaned back in his life-support chair, and smiled smugly. "Be sure you are not followed, and do not attract unwanted attention."

"Of course, master," came the smooth reply. "You know I will not fail you. We shall be there soon."

_**B**_

Cold eyes narrowed as a gloved finger stabbed a small button, and a GPS grid lit up, and showed a tracking beacon on the small console. He hit another switch, and the black silhouette of his vehicle seemed to fade as he started the engines, and moved quietly, and invisibly, down the mostly empty streets after the old van most thugs seemed to favor for their illegal activities even after years of being discovered quite easily even by average lawmen.

He barely paid any attention to the frantic call from Bullock's office that the mayor had just been kidnapped. He had anticipated this move from the start, and had already taken precautions. He was now moving toward his target, and this time, he would ensure the master of assassins learned his lesson. He was finished with playing games with him.

He thought briefly of Talia, still lying in her frozen sleep, and shrugged aside the emotion that thought engendered. He was working now. The time was past for any sentiment on his part.

_**B**_

Barbara Gordon woke in a surprisingly well-furnished lab, laying on an exam table, thankfully, still fully clothed in her usual, cotton night dress. She had her arms bound to the sides of the table, but she looked down to see her feet were still free. No surprise, since she couldn't move them anyway.

She looked around again, but saw nothing that told her where she was, or what was happening. The last thing she recalled was going to bed, and then waking here. Wherever here was, she mused grimly. She could guess it wasn't a good place judging from some of the vicious looking instruments laying around her.

She forced herself to remain calm in spite of thoughts of the Joker that inevitably rose to mind. Had he learned who she was, or had been? Had he moved on her just out of spite, or on some whim? She didn't know. Questions, she had learned, were the hard part of life. Especially when they had no real answers.

She forced herself to remain patient even as she wished she had her special gloves on just then. The ones with the lock picks, and the small file in them. Not that she had even worn them in years now, but the idea of them would have been comforting.

All she could do just then, though, was lay there, and wait for whatever madman had taken her to appear.

She did not wait long.

"Ah, you are awake," came the weak, trembling voice of a man not far from death.

"Ra's," she named him in an accusatory tone.

"Now, Now, Ms. Gordon, why sound so surprised? Or do you prefer Oracle? Maybe even….Batgirl? Yes, I know all about you. Not that it matters. None of that matters. What matters is the alien technology implanted in your body. Technology I mean to have. And I trust you will be modest enough, and well-mannered enough, not to bore me with any of the usual unpleasantries," the old man said as a bald giant in a red and gold leather vest that contrasted well with his black pants.

"Nice costume, baldy," she smirked. "_Thugs R Us _having a sale," she demanded as she noted two other men wearing the same uniform enter the room to don white lab coats.

"Really, Ms. Gordon," Ra's drawled. "This doesn't have to be….distasteful. We're just going to remove enough of the technology implanted in you to study, and replicate. After that, you may go."

"After that? If you know what…._he_ did to me, then you have to know it's a part of my own nervous system by now. If you cut it out, you could kill me. If you don't paralyze me completely," she spat.

"A risk I'm willing to take," Ra's drawled blandly.

"How magnanimous," she muttered coldly.

"Ah, right. You were a librarian. A woman of intelligence, and some breeding. You might even have made a fitting consort at one time," he smiled cadaverously at her as his doctors approached her, one lifting very sharp scalpels. The other lifting a prepped syringe that could be holding anything.

"He'll kill you for this," she hissed, looking fearfully at the men as one used the scalpel to slit her gown up the side to pull it up to her waist.

"He will never even know I'm involved. My assassin failed with your occasional lover, but I always plan ahead. That is why I, Ra's al Ghul, am immortal, and will always succeed where others fail. When you are returned before dawn, there will be nothing to know. Nothing to discover. No one will ever even know I took you, or for what purpose. For we'll also erase whatever memory you hold of this night. Regrettably, it will also shroud your entire week in forgetfulness, but that is also a risk I am willing to take."

"Well, I'm not," Barbara rasped, and to her surprise, as well as the men's, her left leg suddenly cocked up, and slammed her heel into the jaw of the man with the needle aimed at her hip. Then it flashed horizontally to drive the scalpel bearer's head into a nearby counter.

Both men did not get back up.

"Interesting," Ra's drawled as Barbara stared at her own legs that now moved for the first time in decades. "I believe you are as surprised as I at your recovery. This technology is obviously all I had hoped," he smiled cruelly as Sayid now moved carefully forward to bind her ankles down to the table as well, rendering her completely helpless.

"Still, regrettably, you have shattered the narcotics I meant to be used to spare you pain. Yet that will not dissuade me," the ancient assassin told her with a cold gleam as one of the men in white recovered enough to stagger to his feet still clutching his scalpel. "I will have this technology, woman. If it must be cut from your dying flesh," he swore.

"You'll never….get away with this," she swore impotently, struggling in vain as she watched the furious medical man approach her with that scalpel again.

"Who will stop me," he cackled madly.

"I believe that is my cue," a gravely voice drawled as a living shadow dropped from the skylight and landed lightly beside the exam table.

"Leave," Batman growled at the man in the lab coat.

He couldn't leave fast enough.

Ra's sighed. "You remain an annoyance, detective. I thought it would be fun to spare you, and toy with you again through the years.

"I have changed my mind.

"Sayid," he barked.

Even as the bald assassin moved, twin daggers appearing in his hands, a single gloved hand flashed, and a net that sparked with a self-contained charge wrapped around the assassin's man, sending him writhing to the ground before the charge faded, leaving him completely unconscious even if his body continues to spasm periodically.

"Detective," Ra's grumbled frigidly as he eyed the Bat from hooded eyes. "You do continue to surprise me. How did you know that Sayid was a cybernetic construct, susceptible only to sudden, electrical shock?" "I still have my own secrets, Ra's," he growled, not bothering to tell him he had heard Sayid's internal gears grating and moving that first time in the cave. "Now, I have to deliver a warning to you, old man," he added as he quickly freed Barbara, and lifted her into his arms. "Stay away from me, and my people, or Talia spends the rest of whatever life she has in that stasis tube."

"Are you implying you can spare her that fate," Ra's demanded in the same cold tone.

"Easily," he remarked in a similar tone. "Only I will not spare one moment for her so long as you continue to harass those under my protection."

Ra's glowered, clenching spindly fingers into weak fists. "You could share your miracle with me, detective. A minor exchange, and I could easily…."

"No bargains, assassin. Stay out of my way, or….." "Or what? You don't kill. We both know that."

"I don't have to kill you," the Bat smiled coldly from behind his mask. "I simply don't have to save you. Or Talia."

Ra's gasped, a thin hand clutching his chest as he felt the impact of those words.

"You have my word," the assassin finally sighed, sagging visibly in his chair. "I…will not interfere with you, or your…..wards. So long as you spare my daughter her own fate."

"Recall your own honor, assassin, and recall, too, I do not break my word. Now, get out of my city," he spat, and lifted his right arm, his left cradling Barbara.

He was gone in the next instant.

Ra's glared at the still twitching cyborg, shaking his head. Then he frowned. "He knew," he realized, thinking of the hidden transmitter in Talia's support system. "He knew, and left it open all along."

"Tell me we got something," he demanded of his doctor when the man finally dared slink back in to check on him.

The doctor went to the nearby scanning device adapted from an MRI, and checked its readings. "We….have something," he told him. "I…I cannot yet decipher some of these readings, but….we have enough to start trying to simulate some of the organic technology found in both of them even without the actual samples. Only…."

"Only," Ra's asked.

"According to this, the Bat is still human. Fully human. He is not, as you theorized, a construct of any kind."

"Interesting," the light in the man's rheumy eyes darkened for a moment. "Concentrate on his readings for now. Oh, and free Sayid. We must return to our own true hideaway for the time being. And quickly," he ordered him as he watched his aide rise sheepishly from the net that had so easily incapacitated his otherwise powerful body. "We do not wish to anger the detective," he told the doctor smugly.

_**B**_

"You aren't going to believe this," Barbara told her recent lover and longtime comrade as he held her firmly to his chest as they stood atop a penthouse near the heart of the city looking out over the view. She simply wriggled the toes on both feet when he looked down at her.

"I saw you kick those men. An impressive display of skills you should have long since lost. Apparently, the sensory net I devised is functioning on a level I had not anticipated. You did not even show any signs of muscular atrophy when you moved."

"That's one way to understate it," she giggled as she rested in his arms, content to be held. "I had been feeling increased sensations in my legs all week. But they never once twitched. Not so much as a toe. Then when that assassin approached me with that syringe I just….reacted."

"Can you still move them," he asked, looking down at her bare limbs exposed by her slit gown.

She grinned, and instead of moving her toes, she kicked both feet playfully.

"I suggest you not reveal this miracle to the world at large just yet," he warned her.

She sobered instantly, knowing his concerns. Many of them mirrored her own. "I know. Mayor Gordon might attract a little too much attention from the wrong kind of people if she simply jumped up, and started walking around."

"To say the least. We should advise J'onn and Dick of this new development, though. It could have a bearing on the new line of prosthetics they're adapting for commercial use through Wayne-Tech."

"So, when are you going to go after him?"

Both of them knew who she meant. "When I'm ready. I've learned over the years that sometimes jumping first, and asking questions later does not always work. Especially with this madman. He's up to something. Something that's had him pretending to be someone else for over ten years. Something that has had him ignoring the spotlight we both know he enjoys.

"I have to be more than ready this time. I will not let him endanger one more person because of my lapse, or an indifferent judicial system. This is likely going to be our endgame," he told her grimly.

"You do sound dismal, Batman. Only….are you really going to….?"

He cut her off, asking curtly, "Can you kill a dead man," in so cold a voice she would have expected frost to hang off his tone. "If that is what it takes, I'm finished playing games with that clown. No more. Now, I'd better get you home, and let Commissioner Bullock know you're alive, and well."

"Harvey does worry," she grinned. "He takes my responsibility seriously after dad….. Well, you know."

"I heard."

"I just want to know one thing," Barbara asked as he fired a grapple out over the city.

"What is that," he asked as his muscles coiled, and she tightened her grip around his shoulders.

"Was that really you kissing Ivy in the part earlier this week," she demanded.

Her only reply was the soft grunt he gave as he launched them out over the city at the end of his line. She should have known. He never gave the answers you wanted. Only the ones he was ready for you to have, when he felt you were ready to have them.

_**B**_

"Again," Dr. Jones asked as Dick flexed his arm, pulling a cable that was attached to a two-hundred pound weight.

"It's unreal, John," he called the disguised Martian who had joined Wayne-Tech to apply some of his knowledge to projects that could benefit mankind, leaving the more strenuous heroics to the younger generation. Not that he still couldn't go toe-to-toe with most threats the rejuvenated League faced, since Martians did have rather long life spans. He simply got tired of being a thug, even if he was on the right side of the law, for that was how he had come to view many of his missions over the years.

Show up, pound the menace into the ground, and take your accolades. In the end, what did you truly accomplish? Very little. The courts let the villain of the day, week, or whatever right back out, and it began all over again.

It was time to use his brain, which ranked very highly compared to some of even his super-intelligent companions.

"Describe this unreality."

"I mean, look at this. I'm pulling two hundred pounds here like I'm tugging on empty boxes, and I told you how fast I was when…..you know."

"Indeed," the scientist nodded. "That was a surprisingly development. Yet aside from some increased speed and strength in your basic autonomic reflexes, I've found nothing that could be considered a detriment from pushing this technology into full development.

"We've stalled this as long as we can without being forced to pull all development on the project," he reminded him. "And we have not found one reason to do so. Not one."

"How about this one," he told him. "Last night….ah, our benefactor told me that the sensory-web had exceeded his design parameters.

"_She_ can walk again."

"Interesting," Dr. Jones remarked blandly, barely showing any reaction.

"Let me guess," he grumbled. "He's already told you….?"

"About her abduction, and her miraculous recovery in time to defend herself? Of course. He is a conscientious individual, even if he does hold many things close to his vest, as you would say."

"That's the understatement of the century. So, any clues on this new development," he asked.

"I believe, as I told….him, that it was only logical that a system integrated into the primary nervous system to return sensory awareness might also manage to extend its program to repair the neurological damage to a damaged spine, and thus, return full mobility to its host."

"Maybe, but….without any detrimental affect from atrophy, or disuse. I saw her a few days ago, and she's looking….well, better than ever."

"As are you. I believe the neural links are expanding into your organic systems, and refining them as well."

"What," he frowned.

"How else do you explain the fact you've been lifting three hundred pounds with _both_ hands?" He looked at the weight John had changed on him without his noticing. He pulled the cables again, and gaped as the weights rose effortlessly. Just the faintest degree of resistance marked their mass as he realized he was already doing more than he had ever managed at his prime.

"John, this is starting to scare me."

"It shouldn't. It's quite similar to a Martian surgical technique for repairing damaged limbs. The only real concern I have at this point is finding a method to turn down the strength and agility on future implants, or prosthetics so we don't end up with a world full of Olympic gymnasts."

"Or super-villains?" "Exactly," the balding, bespectacled mask the aging J'onn J'onzz wore just then.

"Well, let's figure it out, because if this lets us market a viable prosthetic without that worry, we're going to making a lot of people's dreams come true."

"That, I believe, is our reason for being here," the Martian drawled blandly as his grayish eyes radiated a faint green as he allowed a smug expression to cover his aging face.

"So, all these tests, and endurance trials actually have a purpose, do they," Dick moaned.

"Naturally."

"But you aren't going to tell me what that is, are you?" "I shall have a report on your desk, Mr. Grayson, as soon as I've correlated, and confirmed my theory."

"You do that," he muttered, and rose to wipe his brow, finding only a light sheen of sweat had spread over him. Once, he would have been winded, and dripping after a workout half as strenuous as what John had put him through in the sealed lab.

Now, he felt as if he had just had a light jog down a hill. Easy, but hardly strenuous.

"Just tell me we have a chance."

"Of course we do," Dr. Jones drawled as he shut off the recording devices monitoring everything in the lab, which was why they had guarded their speech. "Why else insist upon rechecking my earlier test results."

"Because you're a closet masochist," Dick asked as he headed for the door to the private showers.

John only smiled briefly, then turned back to his console where he was already running new programs to confirm his test results, and plot a means of controlling the prosthetics before they overwhelmed any potential new hosts.

_**B**_

"Heard you….was back," Rupert Thorne rasped behind his oxygen mask, a spindly shell of the stocky giant he had been years ago.

White hair stuck out from his balding head in unruly clumps, and the pale, pink scalp was too glossy to be healthy. Rupert was sick. Really sick. He was obviously dying.

The shadow that moved around his bed drew close, and the opaque eyes narrowed as they glanced at the medical chart on the wall before looking down at him. "We have a mutual enemy, I believe, Thorne," the grating voice filled his ears as it had that first time they met so many years ago.

"Damn," he rasped again. "It is you. No one else….could sound….. How?"

"Never mind. Let's discuss your nephew. Or the madman pretending to be him."

"Doesn't matter," Rupert said, his frail body shuddering briefly. "I…I know nothing that can help….you. He hid Tommy….from….me. My entire…org….or….outfit couldn't find him. The clown….hid him good. If I do…anything. Say….anything…..he's dead."

"Or maybe he's already dead."

"No. No, he calls….once a month. To keep me….quiet. Though," Rupert gave a grimacing smile, "That won't….be necessary….much longer."

"Do you know anything that will explain his masquerade?" "Not a clue. Don't…have a clue. I…I tried to figure him….out. Hell, you know….you must remember….how it is with….him? He took over….everything. He plays….straight, but….my gut says…..says….." "So does mine," the dark shadow murmured as he moved slightly away from the bed.

"They said….you were….dead," Rupert spat out after a brief silence.

"They were wrong," the longtime thorn in Thorne's side replied.

"They…always were….when it came…to you. Listen….Bats. T-Tommy is…..he's straight. Never….got into…..our biz-ness. If you….."

"I'll find him."

"Never thought….I'd say….thanks to….."

The machine next him started to wail. Even as the nurse came stumbling into the room, wiping sleep from her eyes, the shadow near the bed moved, and vanished in the same instant. She looked around the room as she went to the patient, and confirmed he was in full arrest.

Shrugging off waking dreams of shadows that moved on their own, she called for the doctor as she went through the motions of trying to ensure the patient was truly dead before she recorded it for the doctor, who likely wouldn't be showing up anytime soon. The old man was better off dead, anyway. Or so she had felt when he had been brought her to die.

Considering who he was, what he had been, she doubted anyone would even care.

_**B**_

"Wondered when you were going to be getting around to me," the graying brunette muttered as she eyed the swaying curtains that moved without obvious reason as she sat looking out the window of the small apartment that had the smell of ammonia emanating from every surface that could be cleaned. "Kind of insulting you picked me last."

"Hardly last, Quinn," he drawled, eyeing the woman who was much pudgier than the last time he had seen the psychotic shrink who had joined her own patient in a criminal rampage for a time. "And you were never that much of a threat. I'm here for information. Nothing more."

The woman sighed. "And here I thought I might finally have a chance at getting a peek under that mask," the weathered features smirked. "I heard about that business with Pammy. I knew it had to be you. No one else would be that daring. Or stupid."

The Batman stood silent by the curtains, his head cocked as if waiting for her to finish her venting.

"So, let me guess. You miss the old days, and you came by to swap stories?" "No. I came to ask you if you knew anything of the Joker's intentions."

The woman stiffened. "That's cold, even for you. We both know Mr. J got fried over ten years ago."

"Did he?" "Wait, wait, wait one damn minute," the woman flushed, tapping her cane she only then reached for angrily against the floor. "Are you telling me that pale-skinned, two-timing, fruitcake is still _alive_?" "And kicking," Batman drawled, his expression never changing. "I take it you were not part of his new entourage after all."

"Does it look like it," she grumbled, sitting back heavily in her chair. "Jeez. All this time I was feeling sorry for him, and beating myself up….. I coulda been beating _him_ up."

"I take it you had a falling out before his alleged execution?"

"You can take whatever you like. Doesn't mean you know nothing about nothing," the still obviously unstable woman grumbled as the light in those dark eyes gleamed with the manic energy of the woman from her youth.

"Educate me, Dr. Quinn, if you would. Why did you split up?" "He had a thing for a certain blonde. He didn't even know her name. Just saw her in a bank we robbed, and decided right then he had to have her. Never mind the cops were after us, and your sidekicks were tripping all over themselves to get at us, he had to stop right in the middle of the robbery to ask her out. Just because she had a stupid Queen of Hearts tee on he claimed was a sign from God."

She snorted. "He didn't even believe in God."

"I take it you were replaced?" She snorted again. "You're half right. I got the boot after I helped the silly bimbo escape from the hideout where Mr. J dragged her after we barely got away from the cops, and all your Bat-buddies. He found out, and had me gang-banged by his boys before he dropped me in the river. I survived, but ended up preggers, with a bad leg. The glory days were definitely over," she sighed as she glanced at her cane. "I heard the bimbo ended up in Arkham herself, though," she sniggered. "A week with Mr. J can do that to you."

She grinned as she looked over at the curtain as she mocked that intruder on her role, and found the space empty. "Figures," she muttered, wishing the cable were still on so she could at least watch Mad TV. Kids weren't cheap, though. "Some things just never change."

"Mom," her fourteen year old son asked as he came into the living room wiping sleep from his eyes. "Did you call me?"

She sighed, and looked back at the sandy-haired kid whose father she still wasn't sure about after all this time. Thugs were hardly the type to take paternity tests, and she had cut her ties but good after she crawled out of the river, and right into a jail cell before she made a real show of going straight that last time. Only her son made it worth the drudgery. Though just barely sometimes. Not that she had much of a life either way now. Not with a bad leg, and fifty pounds overweight. She couldn't even get a date during happy hour these days.

She shook her head, "I was just talking to myself, Billy-boy. You go on to bed, and I'll try to keep it down," she told him.

The boy yawned, muttered an unintelligible reply, and headed back to his bedroom. She was looking back out the window, her only source of entertainment until she made enough to get the cable back on again. Batsy hadn't even told her how the Joker had managed his big fade, or what he was up to, but if he were here looking for answers, then he might not know either.

Then it occurred to her that old Batsy didn't look that old. Not that she had gotten a good look at him, but he was lean, fit, and looked ready to die for, she admitted. Pamela had always had a secret crush on the big jerk, but now she wondered if there wasn't more going on under than cape than she had realized. Ah, well, it wasn't like that jerk would like her any better than he had in the old days.

Still, a girl could dream.

_**B**_

Thomas Thorne smiled a little macabre as he looked over the news reports that morning in the highest office in Thorne, Ltd. "Almost time," the lean, good-looking man with shaggy dark hair, and bright blue eyes remarked with a grin as he looked over at his secretary. "The city's really been heating up lately since this new Batman showed up flashing his new tights, and making a real mess of things."

Sally Nolan sighed, used to her bosses weird quirks by now.

It had not always been that way. Not at the start. Thomas Thorne had come out of college bright, eager, and actually quite friendly. It was later that he started to change. Acting impulsively, almost atypically for what she had grown used to from him. Still, she needed the job, so she swallowed her pride, and her tongue, and just did the job she was told to do.

Even if it meant working late into the night for no more reason than he wanted her there in case he wanted……

"Go, and make coffee, old girl," he smiled her way, "And be sure to make enough for two. I'm expecting company."

Sally smiled wanly, and turned to the door of the executive office, asking, "Is that you want, Mr. Thorne?" "Yes, that's all," he told her with a grin as he gave her that look that had her feeling almost as if she were back in Arkham where she had spent two years after her breakdown. "For now," he added as she closed the door behind her.

The man known as Thomas Thorne grinned as he tossed the newspaper aside, and considered his place in life. Life certainly was full of surprises, the green-eyed man grinned as he turned himself around and around in his office chair behind his desk. "And I do _love_ surprises," he smiled to himself as he stopped to stare out at panorama of the city before him.

Even at night, with only half it's dark expanse lit up, it was a breathtaking sight.

A soft breeze blew to his right, and Thomas Thorne spun around to stare unblinkingly at the tall, dark silhouette that did not belong in his well-lit office. "Well, Batsy, long time, no see. I hear the odds are seventy-thirty against you being the real Bat-boy."

"I wouldn't know."

"Right on time," Thomas drawled as Sally returned just then, carrying two cups of steaming coffee on a serving tray.

"Oh," Sally exclaimed almost dropping the tray as she gaped at the darkly clad hero of legend standing right in front of her. "Uh, uh, cream, or….or sugar, Mr. Batman," she asked.

"Nothing, thank you," he drawled as he looked down at her with cold, empty slits for eyes that seemed to bore right into her.

"We need to talk, Thorne. Alone."

"Naturally, Batman. Naturally. That will be all, Ms. Nolan. Toddle off, and do try to relax. Remember, a smile can make a wonderful umbrella. Unless, of course, it's raining pianos," he chuckled.

Sally smiled wanly, and set the tray down on Mr. Thorne's desk, and all but fled the office. Whatever had brought the infamous vigilante to her job, she didn't want to know about it. Not when so far, every appearance of the long missing hero was followed by bad news, and broken bodies. She didn't even look back as she fled the office, and even considered the stairs when the elevator didn't seem to come fast enough.

"Well, I suppose now that she's gone, you want to swap passwords, secret handshakes, and all that kind of thing," Thomas asked with a wide grin.

"You may have changed your face, clown, but you haven't changed what matters," the hero growled.

"Hold on, Batsy. Don't I get to even hear your story first before you start bashing heads? No," Thomas chortled inanely. "Well, would you like to hear mine?" "Make it good," Batman drawled, though he didn't so much as relax a single coiled muscle.

"Okay," he grinned, lifting one of the coffee cups. "Sure you wouldn't like a cup. Sally does make a mean….." "Here, or at police headquarters, clown. Your choice."

"Jeez, you have to be the real McCoy. You're both such sticks-in-the-proverbial mud. No comment? Okay, I'll give you the abridged version, since you don't look ready for an opus," Thomas grinned, putting his cup aside to clap his hands together. "By the way, I'm pretty sure you're the real thing. Young, trim, and strangely timeless with that dreadful sense of fashion you always had, but….yes, I'm betting you are the real thing. Which is almost a pity. Twenty years, and you still couldn't get on with your life? Right, right, I'm getting to it. Setting the mood, so to speak," Thomas said as he held up his hands again when the caped hero took a warning step forward, his glover hands clenching ever tighter into hard fists. "Well, the short version is this," Thomas said as he spun his chair around again. "I fell in love," he grinned. "Really, it's true. Got bit by the old love bug. Hard, too. I just didn't realize it until that little busybody Harley tried to get rid of my beloved."

"That's not the story I heard."

"Ah-ha, been sneaking around behind my back, have you," he shook a well-manicured finger at Batman. "Oh, wait," he chortled again, slapping a palm to his forehead. "That's what you do. Isn't it? Anyway, old Harle was a lot of laughs, but lets face it, she didn't have a lot going for her upstairs. Sure, she could fill out the spandex, and she was a great cook, and not bad in the sheets, but other than that….? Yawn-city. Just nothing upstairs to commend her at all," he sighed in false regret.

"Not after you got finished with her," Batman growled again.

"Yeah, well, those were different times. Yada, yada, yada. I'm a changed man. Can't you see it? I've become a respectful business man, pillar of the community, and I'm doing it all to win my fair love's heart."

"I don't buy it. You say you changed? How about kidnapping, blackmail, and a little question of your ties to the Black Mask gang?"

"Those losers? Please. I can tell you quite honestly, Bat-boy, that I kidnapped no one, and as to blackmail, well….it's part of the whole business thing, don't you know? And I don't have anything to do with the Black Masks. They have a new leader now."

"Enlighten me," he demanded.

"That's….kind of tricky. You see, I'm persona incognito because _he_ agreed to groom me to fit the role of dashing, young heir to the Thorne dynasty only if I never told anyone who he……

"Thorne," Thomas barked as he was suddenly dangling from the vigilante's left hand, his hard right cocked back to smash his teeth in. "Thomas Thorne. The, ah, real one."

"You're telling me that Rupert's nephew is letting _you_ play him, so he can run a gang of murderous rogues."

"That's about it," Thomas grinned.

"Now what, caped crusader of justice," Thomas risked a faint smile as he dangled from Batman's fist like a forgotten toy as his opaque eyes narrowed in thought, and the grim visage seemed to turn all the darker.

"I'll be watching you, 'Thorne,'" Batman told him as he dropped him back into his chair. "This is most definitely not over."

"I told you, Bats," Thomas assured him. "I'm a changed man."

"Tell that to the woman you all but drove mad, and now have working for you without knowing who you really are," he spat just before he leapt from the open window, and vanished into the night beyond.

"Damn," Thomas whistled as he saw the dark wings spread against the lights of the city, gliding out into the darker parts of the city. "I didn't know he could fly!"

He went back to desk, smiling to himself, and pressed a button on the bottom of his desk. A secret channel opened, and a gruff voice curtly demanded. "Yeah? What now?"

"Thought you'd like to know, TT, a certain vigilante in _wonderfully_ fitting tights just dropped by. He seems to know almost everything."

"Not everything, or he'd have dropped you on your damned head from the top of Thorne Tower," the voice spat.

"Details, details," Thomas drawled. "The point is, I can uncategorically state that my longtime nemesis is the one, true, all-original pain-in-the-ass rodent of the night."

"Suggestions?" "I was hoping you had some," Thomas smirked at the intercom.

"Your body may have been revamped, but that brain of yours is close to senility, isn't it," the man on the other side demanded.

"Well, I did manage to pin the Black Mask thing on young Thorne. The real one."

"Smart move. Maybe we should consider getting rid of him before he trips us up. With Batman involved, I don't want to take any chances before we've got everything up, and operating."

"Trust me. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's push Bat-dummy's buttons. I'll have him chasing shadows for days before he even realizes what we're doing."

"Just don't slip up. We're close. Real close."

"As if I don't know it."

"I take it the secretary is now playing ball."

"She makes up an entire team," Thomas chortled. "I'm heading over to see her later this evening after I wrap up a few more things. Gotta make it look like I'm still the _boy wonder _of business. Say," he quipped in the same breath. "Do you think the little bird will be back, too, since we've got a bat out there again?" "I don't care. Just make sure everything goes off on schedule. I've got bidders lining up with ready cash already. I'm not going to blow the sweetest deal in years because you start reminiscing about your glory days."

"Nag, nag, nag," Thomas huffed. "And we're not even married!"

"Idiot," the voice spat, and closed the connection.

"And I thought Batsy was a stick-in-the-mud," Thomas grumbled as he leaned back in his chair, and spun around in circles again several times before he stopped to eye his coffee. Shrugging, he emptied the cup, then the other, and then headed out of the office.

To hell with business, he thought. I want to have fun!

_**B**_

Batman stared grimly as he studied the last of the readings from Talia's most recent tests. He had no choice but to rely on his first plan on treating her. It would be difficult, it would be dangerous, but it was now apparent that in spite of the cryo-sleep tube, the tumor was still advancing. At its current rate of growth, hampered by stasis as it was, she would be dead within two weeks.

He went to the lab, rechecked his stocks, and planned what was needed to the last detail. He then called Dr. Jones, or rather J'onn J'onnzz. He was going to need the Martian for what he had planned. No one else had the skill, or knowledge necessary to help him operate as was necessary to give Talia a chance. It would be risky in itself, as was the surgery itself. Still, he had to try. To do nothing at this point only let her slip one step closer to her grave.

He recalled the first time he met her, or her father, the seemingly immortal head of the League of Assassins. Ra's had kidnapped Dick, pierced their secret identities, and challenged him to a deadly game of proving his detective's skills before his young protégé met an untimely end. All to ascertain whether he was a fit match for his daughter.

Talia Head had been in and out of his life more times than he could count since. He wasn't sure if he loved her, or not, but he was fond of her. He would not leave anyone to her fate, though. It was why he had tried so hard to help Victor's wife at the time. Unfortunately, even he could not save everyone he wished. He supposed that must be how Clark felt at times.

"I'm ready, Batman," a subdued voice rolled in her ears from behind him.

"Thank you for coming, J'onn," he nodded at the Martian now in his more familiar League guise. There were few people in the world that had seen J'onn as he truly was, and he was one of them. Still, he realized J'onn was sensitive to alarming others, and being a telepath he knew just when he did, which was why he had adopted his current façade as his primary guise.

"Considering the urgency of your summons, I could do no less. You do realize there is still less than a forty-two percent chance of success even employing my powers, and your new technology."

"I know. But it is her only chance. Her condition is still degrading in spite of the stasis. The tumor is proving….remarkably resilient."

"I understand," the Martian nodded as he followed Batman from the transporter to the medical clinic where an operating theater was set up next the stasis tube. Once Talia was out of the tube, they would only have minutes to perform the surgery, and try to save her life before the reinvigorated tumor virtually exploded with new growth once thawed.

"I've had the tube cycling on a slow thaw for the past hour since my return. She'll be ready for surgery as soon as the stasis field collapses, and we can safely remove her."

"And if she wakes?" "I've been slowly introducing the appropriate anesthetics into her recycled blood plasma, to keep her unconscious even when she is thawed," Batman told him. "As I said, the moment we get her out, we must start the operation."

"I am ready," J'onn told him.

"I wish I were," Batman told him grimly.

"Well, you'll be glad to know we've been able to isolate certain command codes that let us dampen the meta-response in your….prosthetic limbs. If all goes well with the next round of testing, we can present a viable product to the market within four months if the FDA accepts our data."

"Good. There are a lot of people out there that deserve a second chance."

"I'm not doing quite so well with the topical applications, though," he admitted. "Artificial skins are more sensory net than prosthetic, and there isn't a physical code you can dampen in their construction. I'm still too concerned about unintended affects to let it go to further testing as yet."

"You mean like Barb's sudden ability to walk again?" "That's just a prime indicator. Somehow, that simple sensory net you implanted was able to integrate with her entire nervous system, repairing systemic damage, and even compensate for atrophied bone, and muscle mass. We cannot risk using it on anyone else until we are certain there are no other inadvertent consequences to its use."

"For what it's worth, I agree," he told J'onn as they reviewed the stasis-tube's counter. It wouldn't be long. Everything was ready. All they needed was Talia, and then they would soon know if she were going to live, or die. It was only a matter of time now.

"By the way, Wally asked me to discuss how soon you might be able to….."

"Couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he?" "I accidentally picked up on it during a routine scan to try to help him filter some subliminals out of his head that one of the younger members planted in a file to play a joke on him. It had him unable to say a word for almost three days before he figured out what happened, and came to me for help.

"That must have galled him," he drawled as he nodded at J'onn's explanation. "Tell him I should be ready for him within another two days. I'm rechecking the construction matrixes myself to ensure nothing goes wrong since we'll be dealing with an active metagene that is still relatively uncharted."

"A wise decision. I will tell him."

"You should also consider telling the younger members that like to play pranks with something as invaluable as the League's computers about how much damage they can unwittingly cause. It wouldn't be the first time someone exploited a careless mistake to take control of our systems."

"Don't remind me," J'onn grimaced, then saw the green light on the stasis-tube start to flicker.

"Ready," Batman nodded grimly, and joined the Martian in pulling Talia's limp, still chilled body from the insulated cylinder that had apparently been her bed for some years judging by the data he had been studying.

It didn't surprise him that she still looked barely twenty-five, and lean, fit, and wiry. She was still a member of the League of Assassins. Her father's daughter, though she tried to go her own way often enough, usually to no avail. He didn't spare a moment's thought on the old villain himself as he set up the IV, the oxygen, and secondary support systems as J'onn cut away part of her hair to get it out of the way.

"Now," Batman murmured as they pulled their surgical masks up. "Let's try to make another miracle," he told his longtime colleague solemnly.

J'onn did not reply. He was now starting the first incision. Even as blood welled, both men went to work. They knew what they had to do, and they were willing to do it if it meant that a life would be saved. It was, after all, the heart of what they did.

_To Be Continued……_


	4. Chapter 4

_**THE BAT:**_

_**NIGHT OF THE ASSASSINS**_

_**By LJ58**_

**Part 4:**

His name was Ra's al Ghul.

The Demon's Head.

And he had once been immortal. Or very close to it.

For centuries, he had used the Lazarus Pits to keep himself alive, young, and strong. Until recently they began drying up, or losing their efficacy. He wasn't sure why. He suspected it was something to do with the planet's fragile ecosystem which was continuing to decay, as he had warned the nations in vain for years.

He only knew that for one of the few times in his life, he was facing a very real death, and it frightened him. Not personally. Nor was it a fear born of religious anxiety, or concern for the state of his afterlife.

He feared for his League, his daughter, and his world after he was gone.

Those concerns drove him to try what deemed mad, and irrational attempts to expunge man's vile blight on the globe. The national leaders knew what they were doing, of that he had little doubt. They just did not care. In their mad quest for power and wealth, they squeezed his world like an overripe fruit, trying to take every last precious drop of life from it. They did not pause to consider that in the end, they would be killing themselves, and their own future generations. Or, more accurately, they did not care.

Wealth, and power.

Power, and wealth.

The capitalist democracies were literally fueled by those twin blades being repeatedly plunged into the very heart of the mother that had given man birth. And that fuel was being spread abroad in a misguided notion that the West could somehow civilize the planet by ensuring every other nation on the globe joined them in their mad rush to oblivion, like a pack of witless lemmings.

He had spent whole lifetimes trying to slow, or stop that mad rush to destruction. In all that time, only one man ever truly thwarted him. Only ever truly understood him. The man that his only daughter, and unwilling heir actually loved. It was incomprehensible to him, since the detective, while an admirable man, had no place for love in his dark heart.

Ra's knew the man well.

The true man.

At the very heart of him, he was as bleak, and ominous a soul as he himself.

He simply channeled his darkness into a misguided optimism as he vainly strived to remake the world in his childish notions of utopia. A world that could, and never would be.

"We are almost ready," Sayid reported as he came into the medical bay where now only machines kept Ra's malevolent will alive. His body was on the verge of collapse, and nothing could stop that. Nothing, except the few, rare and precious secrets his hidden scanners had managed to pry from Gordon and Wayne while they had been inside the specially prepared chamber meant to lure the dark knight to him for just such a covert examination.

"How….did the….rep…plication….go," he demanded in a weak stammer.

"We have achieved nearly eighty percent efficacy, great one," Sayid reported, his features grim.

"Only that," he grimaced.

"There were certain….elements in the scan the scientists could not decipher," he told him gravely. "Let alone copy, even with the technology at our disposal."

"It shall….have to be….e….en…..eh-nuf. Hurry," he rasped, and Sayid deftly disconnected him from the machines that kept his withering body alive, and rolled his entire bed down the hall to the waiting operating theater.

"If I do not….wake," Ra's hissed at Sayid as they approached the operating room. "Ensure my daughter….is well….before you…..avenge me," he spat.

"It shall be as you say, master," Sayid nodded. "But I am confident you shall be here to avenge yourself for his daring to spurn your offers."

"We shall see, my….my friend," he smiled weakly, and felt a dizzying rush that had his head spinning, and his vision blurring.

Then Ra's al Ghul, master assassin for generations in the League of Assassins, knew no more.

_**B**_

Wally grinned as he moved his legs slowly, forcing himself to follow Batman's instructions to the letter. That he was being forced to wait at least twenty-four hours to better allow the prosthetics to bond with his unique, superhuman metabolism was beyond chafing.

He wanted to jump up from his chair, his longtime prison, and run. Truly run.

He wanted to feel the speed his body still contained, and the joy of raw, unbridled velocity unleashed once more. Linda understood. She always had. She had stayed by him through the years, good and bad, and had been the only one that helped him truly cope when that bumbling Captain Boomerang had accidentally cost him both legs. He hadn't even been trying at the time, but his clumsiness had actually tripped up the fastest man alive, and being rather busy with a few henchmen firing wildly into a crowd of civilians, he had been slapping bullets from the air when Boomy, and his silly toys, blindsided him.

He lost one leg right then. The other broken, and the bones crushed badly enough they fhad to be amputated. The bad guys had gotten away, of course. Lantern showed up to take him to a private medical facility where he could be treated, but even the League couldn't grow back lost limbs. Not unless you were a meta that already had that power of regeneration. A very rare power, too.

He had spent years in therapy, fighting maddening dreams, and just _remembering_ what he could do. It very nearly drove him insane. Thank God for Linda. And for Janey. Their daughter was a real chip off the old block, as Barry would have said. Which suited him just fine.

Now, though, he actually had legs again. Legs designed especially for him, and his unique metagene. The only question was if they would hold up to the demands a genuine Flash could put on them. After all, ordinary prosthetics didn't have a chance of surviving the friction and stress a really fast-moving Flash could generate. Neither could ordinary flesh. This stuff, however, Bats assured him could handle the job. He trusted him. Heck, Bats knew more about anything than anyone he ever knew.

Somewhere, back in his mind, he had always known the grim, determined man would be back. That no overgrown lizard was going to take _him_ down. He wasn't even ashamed to admit he had cried when he heard the Batman was actually back, and still kicking butt. No, not ashamed, but he certainly wasn't going to share, either.

He looked down at his legs, and smiled.

"Soon," he murmured as he felt a telltale warping of the air around him.

"Hey, squirt," he grinned, looking right to the very spot Pulse stood when she stopped beside him where he sat in the League's medical bay listening to the monitors chirping around him. "How did the bank heist go?" "Amateurs," she huffed, pulling off the mask that was more like Kid Flash's old costume than his own. She liked her golden hair to flow free. She said it added to the image. "I barely had to do more than slap the guns out of their hands, and the lot of them were babbling for the cops to take them in."

"Well, they're not all that easy, so….."

"Don't get cocky," she finished. "I know, pops," she called him, winking as she tugged her mask back on. "So, when do you get the okay to try out the new gear," she asked, glancing at his pale legs beneath the hospital gown J'onn made him wear for the moment to keep him from yielding to the growing temptation to move before he was ready.

"Another three hours, nine minutes, and forty-seven seconds.

"Forty-six," he counted.

"And you claim I'm impatient," she laughed. "Later, pops," she grinned, kissed his cheek, and vanished all in the same instant.

"You are very lucky," a statuesque woman in red, white, and blue murmured as she entered the still open door yet to swing closed.

"Diana," he grinned at the Amazon who looked as young, and beautiful as ever. Naturally. "Looking good."

Diana chuckled. She was much freer with her emotions than many of his old colleagues. Except for Wally, who would likely never change. To her, he had learned, life was something you celebrated every chance you had, because you never knew when it might end. After all, even immortals could die. As Vandal Savage had learned the hard way a few years ago.

"Thank you, Wally. I hear you may be back on your feet very soon now."

"Well, J'onn is being cautiously optimistic, as always, but I gotta trust Bats. He's never been wrong."

"He's never been 'dead' for twenty years only to show back up looking as if he were rejuvenated by the gods, either," she said flatly. "I'm worried about him."

"You still got a thing for Bats," Wally grinned, his more weathered features still slightly boyish since he still didn't put on much spare weight thanks to his metabolism.

"Bruce…..Batman was always a friend, and an ally," she told him. "However, from what I've been hearing, he's beginning to behave….unlike himself. That concerns me."

"J'onn is keeping an eye on him, Diana," Wally told her bluntly. "If anyone can find out if there's something funny going on, he can."

"Perhaps. I just think we should be careful about how far we….trust him."

"You are paranoid. Guess that's your thing, though," he replied.

"What do you mean," she frowned.

"Being suspicious. I mean, you kind of don't trust anyone at times. Sometimes, you're worse than even Bats."

The Amazon's eyes narrowed slightly at that remark, but she smiled. "I would take that as high praise, were I certain truly certain that this is _our_ Batman."

"Hey, Supes is convinced. And J'onn is, too. But I guess you have to do things your own way. I remember when you and Shayera were still butting heads. Then there was that time when you and Kara got into it. Then there was that four-armed guy..… What was his name again?" "Enough. I only came to see how you fared. Not to get a lecture from an overgrown child."

"Me? Lecture a goddess? Nah, not me, gorgeous," he grinned, and winked.

"I still don't see what your wife sees in you," she drawled as she shook her head, and turned to go. "You are still as bad as ever."

"Hey, she knows a good thing when she sees it," he grinned.

"Then love truly is blind," she snorted as she left.

"I'm not complaining, doll face," he shouted after her.

He didn't have to see her face, he could readily visualize her expression as she rolled her eyes, and her lips turned down, trying very hard not to smile. She was like that. A mixture of dignity and emotion that not many others seemed to get.

Not like him.

Or Bats.

He glanced down at his legs.

Three hours, four minutes, and nine seconds.

Eight.

And he was not that impatient, he mentally added. Not even close.

_**B**_

Batman studied the DNA sample he had acquired when he had covertly switched the cups the apparent Thomas Thorne had set down after sipping from in his office the night before when he visited. He had made the switch easily, then covered it by feigning an angry swipe at the coffee service, shattering the cup, and palming the piece of the rim with the DNA he wanted.

Thorne, or the Joker, never batted an eye at the display, and was still smirking as he had left.

He wouldn't be smirking long. He now had irrefutable evidence that Thomas Thorne was not himself. Not with a genetic matrix that was comprised of almost eighty percent DNA from that of the infamous clown prince of crime wrapped up in his chromosomes. He had to find the real Thorne before he could act on this, though. He had to ensure that Thorne really was safe, or if he was the apparent leader behind the resurrected Black Mask gang. Tonight, he would hunt masks. Tomorrow, he would know for certain if he was on the right track.

Even as he was reviewing the evidence before him, a lithe, willowy brunette entered the crime lab of the cave's much expanded operational base since his early days, and stared owlishly at him.

"Am I….disturbing you," the woman asked quietly, almost bashfully.

"No, Talia," he told her, his mask pulled back just then, but then she had always known his identity. At least, she had.

Just now, she didn't seem to know much beyond the ability to walk, talk, and reason. All personal memories, even those of her father, and her own heritage, seemed to have been either muted, or lost. They had feared she might lose some control of her body, or some of her memories when he and J'onn had performed the radical therapy using the Martian's phasing powers in conjunction with basic surgical techniques. Even with a modified neural web to compensate for the lost tissue mass in the brain, Talia had yet to regain any sense of her true self in the two days she had been awake.

She had recovered quickly enough, and showed little ill effects from the long sleep in cryo, but she moved more like a bashful child, than the well-trained heir to the assassin's guild led by her father. She smiled shyly as he looked back at her, and he set the evidence into a secure, refrigerated cabinet he locked before he turned back to face her.

"Not at all," he told her, fighting the impulse to take her into his arms, and make her his the way he once had when things had seemed simpler. Seemed, for he knew better than to think they ever had been. Not in their lives, or in their relationship.

He clenched his fists beneath the fall of his cape, and eyed her as he fought that impulse to make her yet another mother in his growing harem. "What is you wanted, Talia?"

"I….just wondered…..if I could go outside. I…..I wanted to see the sky."

"It would be daylight just now," he told her. "Too dangerous for either of us to show ourselves."

"Oh," she murmured, her dark head dropping. "I….just wanted to…..see things."

"I understand. I'll take you out tonight if you wish. But you must do as I say. Can you agree to that?"

Her smile reminded him of the old Talia. "Yes," she told him. "I will do whatever you say, Bruce."

He sighed. "When around others, you must never call me Bruce," he told her sternly. "When I am dressed like this, I am Batman."

"I don't like your mask," she pouted, looking all the world like a scolded child rather than a trained assassin. "It's scary."

"It's supposed to be," he told her as he began to mentally review his equipment, deciding what he might need tonight. "You must remember, too, my precautions are for your safety, too. You might not remember just yet, but you have enemies of your own that are as intractable as my own."

"Oh," she murmured, eyeing him thoughtfully as she followed him around he cave as he prepared for the coming night.

"Batman," she asked as he went to the Batmobile, checking it's fuel, and armaments. "Why can't I remember anything?" Batman turned from the rolling arsenal he had redesigned, and was keeping fully prepped since he had tipped his hand to the Joker, and now knew him for that selfsame madman. He eyed the woman he had already explained that very question to on five separate occasions since the operation, and wondered if her short-term memory had been damaged, too.

"You had a growing tumor," he began frankly. "J'onn and I….."

"No, no. I remember what you told me about that," she told him this time. "I….I just wonder….do you know why I can't seem to remember _anything_ personnel?"

He rose from where he had been accessing the Batmobile's onboard computer, and stood before her, his eyes level with her own. "I think it has to do with our past. Our mutual pasts," he admitted.

"And….my father?" "You are starting to remember him?"

"Just….bits and pieces. He's….not a nice man, is he?" "No, he's not. In his own way, he thinks he is doing what is right, and views his actions as part of a greater crusade. Unfortunately, he's forgotten what is really important after fighting his personal crusade for so long that it is all that defines him any longer," he said, and the Batman frowned slightly as he realized that statement might well apply to him as well.

He had been fighting for decades. By now, he should be a broken, tired old man. If not a dead one. Yet here he stood. Tall, strong, and unyielding, and still pursuing his own personal crusade. The much older Talia who nevertheless looked just shy of thirtyish thanks to her long sleep in cryo, and her own use of the Lazarus Pits might have once shared his life had he but yielded his commitment in the slightest degree. One major impediment had always been her father.

He realized that while he might have the same unflagging commitment, that his crusade was nothing like Ras' had been. Or would be if he cheated death yet again. He wasn't giving any odds on the man's survival this time, but he had seen the ancient assassin cheat death too many times to write him off until he saw the body. Even then, he'd likely harbor doubts.

Ra's was that kind of opponent.

"I think, Talia," he told her sincerely, "It's likely because you are still divided in your heart and mind between us, and it's affecting your mental recovery."

"Us," she asked, looking confused, and nothing else.

"Your father, and I. We've taken different paths in life, and you were always torn between them. Between us. I think that was part of our trouble before I…..went away. To be honest, when you recover your memory, I don't think that will have changed."

Which was why he was still fighting an inner urge to take the still beautiful woman he remembered so well, and still loved as much as he could love anyone. That, and his theory of his own augmented instincts, including his reproductive drive, was nagging him about just how much his body was enhancing certain drives that were attempting to lead him, rather than simply guide him.

Case in point, three pregnant women who had been a part of his previous life. Three women that he had been strongly attracted to as well. Not to mention a fourth that a part of him genuinely wanted to claim now that she was obviously recovering, and showing signs of being a healthy, fertile woman again.

He still wasn't sure why the drive only seemed to focus on certain females in his life, but he felt keeping Talia here, around him, was not just for her safety, but a way to focus his own mind on his problem, and thus keep him from slipping up as he had the first three times his own animal instincts had overwhelmed his conscious mind and will to _mark_ three females as his own.

He was going to have to find a solution to this in time, but first, Joker had to be dealt with before he could do whatever he was really up to out there. He believed none of that nonsense about being in love. He had to learn the truth. That meant finding young Thorne, and the Black Masks. He didn't need to see a clock to know he still had thirty minutes until nightfall. He could sense it coming. Sense the fading sun even as he sensed the heat and fertility of the seemingly innocent woman standing before him, digesting his words with such earnest intent.

"I….I don't know why, but I trust you, beloved," she smiled, using a word that slipped easily from her tongue, and lashed at his own memories.

He blinked, his body tensing as it reacted to that word that slipped through the cracks of her still recovering brain. She didn't even seem to realize what she had called him.

Not that it mattered.

He was the Batman. Master of the night, and moreover of himself. He would not let one single aspect of his body rule the rest. Especially _that _aspect.

"Time to go," he said gruffly as he turned toward the car. "Get in, but do not touch anything."

"All right," Talia smiled, and climbed into the passenger seat with a fluid grace even as he leapt into the driver's seat, and barely gave her a glance. Trying very hard not to notice how much she affected him.

He ruthlessly shunted that part of him wanting her aside, and focused on the job before him.

"Buckle up," he told her in the same gruff voice, and started the powerful engine that rumbled immediately with life.

_**B**_

Richard stared out of the Wayne-Tech offices, looking at the brightly lit city that sprawled out before him. It always amazed him that the city could look so bright, so pristine from here. Yet just a few blocks away from the newer construction the city retained a dark, gritty atmosphere that all the lights in the world could not dispel.

For years, driven by rage over his family's senseless murder, he had followed Bruce into that darkness, and then been sucked into a whirlwind of violence and adventure that even now seemed more a game to him than anything else. Of course, the stakes had been real, and written in blood, and he had never truly realized that even while facing monsters like Two-Face, Killer Croc, or even Bane until Whip had taken his arm, leaving him in a bloody, broken heap after their battle.

He had just barely survived that one. Had it not been for Tim, and Barbara, he would have died that night.

Now he had both arms back.

A part of him still wanted to leap out there into the night, and hurl himself between buildings as his soul thrilled to the acrobatic skill infused into him by his parents as he had grown being used once more. It was a lie, though. That thrill was a rush, much like a junkie's addiction. He understood that now. The need to show off. To inspire. To play the hero.

In the end, none of it was real.

Then there had been that memorial service on the moon with the new League.

He had looked at those heroes, and couldn't believe how young some of the faces were now. Had he ever been that young? He supposed he must have been, but he didn't feel it now. He had been propelled into a grim maturity far ahead of his years by Two-Face and his goons. He had been trained to take on a personal war embodied by a master of that war. Now he looked back and saw just a long, empty life.

He had hoped to fill that life, but Barb, the one woman he thought might understand him, and complete him, had now broken their ties completely. He wasn't sure of all the reasons, but he knew it focused on Bruce. She had always had a thing for him. From the day she had donned his mantle, and joined him in his quest to make the streets of Gotham safe for everyone.

A mad quest, he had come to realize even before he had lost his arm.

Maybe he had simply been unable to face his own mortality. His own advancing age. Bruce had said it right when he had warned the new League that it was no game. That you had to be ready to make the ultimate sacrifice in that world. How many times had he seen friends, or companions die. Some never to be honored as was their right. Very, very few had the miraculous returns that Superman, or even his own mentor managed. For the majority of mankind, even for heroes, death was still the inevitable end.

He saw a flash of light, and for a moment he thought it might be _the_ signal. But Harvey didn't like that signal. Wouldn't allow it to be used.

Still, there had been something in the sky to the west for a moment.

He felt a nagging urge to react. To do something.

Instead, he turned away from the view, and looked back at the desk that was covered with work requiring his attention. This was his life now. His real work. Turning his back ruthlessly on the night beyond his office, he settled into his chair, and picked up the silver pen Bruce had left behind many years ago.

He knew he was doing the right thing, but for some reason he was having a bit more trouble enjoying the usual successes he once found in his day-to-day job as Wayne-Tech's CEO. He gritted his teeth, pretending he didn't hear the sirens outside, and tightened his grip on the pen. He was not going back to that life.

Absolutely not.

_**B**_

His name was Ra's al Ghul.

The Demon's Head.

And he was alive again.

He stood naked in the center of the gym, flexing his fists as he tried to understand this strange, new body he had been given. For while he had once more cheated death, he was not as he should be. Not as he expected to be. And he knew there was only one reason for that. One man was responsible.

He would face that man soon enough.

First, he had to access his new body's potential, and ensure he had complete mastery over it.

He had no doubt he would do so, but until then, no one would know of his survival. Only his faithful Sayid knew he still lived, and had not died in that miserable lump of decaying flesh that had been left behind following his operation. To ensure no one spoke of his changes, every one of the doctor's employed had been slain, their bodies cremated, leaving no trace of their passing. No one was left alive that knew anything of him, and so they could not speak. Could not betray him.

He nodded to Sayid to begin the exercise again.

This time, he would not fail. He would master this new body, and mold it into his own image no matter the time, or training required.

And then, he would kill the meddling detective himself once and for all.

_**B**_

Batman guided the sleek rocket through the streets with the skill of long practice, easily dodging civilians, and pedestrians as he followed the rolling tank that kept spitting out mini-rockets at him as it had with the police earlier. The woman beside him held to the arms of her cushioned seat with white knuckles, gaping at the small monitors that displayed the world around the insulated cockpit even as violent shock waves tried to do what the explosions erupting around them could not.

High over the skies of Gotham, a vague dark symbol lit the darkness within a brighter halo. The beacon the media had long ago christened the Bat-signal.

Batman knew it had nothing to do with the tank. He was already responding to the emergency calls from the beleaguered police when the signal flared to life. If Bullock had to resort to lighting up the old beacon while he had to know he was in the middle of an already dangerous situation, then he knew it had to be more than serious.

He waited for the armored vehicle behind him to falter, the signal its crew was reloading, and slammed on his brakes even as he pressed three switches in tandem.

"Touch nothing," he warned Talia even as the top over his head slid away, and he vaulted out into the night as the rush of air filled out his cape like great wings.

She fought back a scream as the vehicle's autopilot now steered the formidable Batmobile away from the tank even as it lay down small, studded spheres that proved to contain tiny charges within their innocuous bodies.

The figure of the Bat soared high into the air, propelled by the force of the pneumatic ejection system before his cape flowed out to form the distinctive wings that caught the air, and let him glide down, and behind the tank even as small, but devastating explosions erupted from beneath its tracks as it ran over the tiny spheres left in the Batmobile's wake. The massive vehicle ground to a halt just a few more feet from the first point of impact as its treads began to unwind, and left the assault vehicle without traction.

Five men emerged from the hatch without hesitation, all carrying automatic rifles. They aimed up at him, obviously not impressed by the return of Gotham's apparent champion. Tracers filled the air even as he banked, and dove at the men, feeling the impact of several rounds, but not slowing his own assault as he lunged at the men the very moment his boots touched the ground.

A flying dropkick leveled one gunman, even as two batarangs flew to drop the next pair. The last two men standing took one look at the caped hero who turned on them, and raced into the shadows in opposite directions. The move was fluid enough that the men had likely used it before now.

"Bad move," he growled, and flung another batarang, and he turned to leap after the second, somersaulting over the man, and landing in front of him.

A quick snap of one wrist blocked the barrel of the rifle coming up to bear on his chest, and easily twisted it from the thug's hands as he shattered the plastic weapon over one knee before grabbing the man, and flinging him hard against a nearby brick wall. He stood over the dazed criminal even as the police began to swarm the tank, quickly taking the unconscious men into custody as he used both hands to lift his prey up once more to meet his eyes.

"Where'd you get the tank," he growled.

"Are you nuts," the man squeaked. "They'd kill me if I squealed."

The Bat's eyes narrowed on him, the opaque lenses giving him a demonic look as he gazed down at the man he held in his fists. "What do you think I'm going to do to you if you don't," he growled, his voice echoing like gravel in an underground tomb.

The man shuddered, looking toward the approaching officers, begging, "Take me in. I give up."

"Can't," the first officer to approach him stopped, holding back his two companions. "I haven't seen anything yet to arrest you," he said blithely as he just stood there, knowing the way the Bat worked from tales from his father who had been a police officer, too.

"Want to last long enough to be arrested," the Bat growled again, slamming him against the wall hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

"All right. All right. It was……"

The man gasped, and went limp in the Bat's hands even as he dropped the man, and spun around, his eyes searching the rooftops around him.

"What'd you do," one of the younger officers asked in shock.

"It wasn't him," the older officer snapped, coming to kneel beside the dead man. And he was dead.

"No," the Bat growled, looking down from the rooftops to eye the body. "But I know who did it. Don't touch those darts, sergeant," he stopped the officer about to reach for one of the tiny, slender darts in the man's throat. "They're sure to be poisoned on both ends."

"Damn," the man hissed, snatching his hand back. "That sounds like….."

"The Assassin's Guild," the Bat nodded. "It's apparently decided to take a hand in criminal activity in Gotham."

"My old man told me horror stories about them," the sergeant grimaced. "I always thought he exaggerated them."

"Not likely," the Bat said as he turned to the sleek, armored vehicle rumbling toward him just then. "Warn the coroner about those blades, too. Don't let him touch them without adequate protection."

"But….why would they kill a two-bit….?"

"_Why, indeed_," the Bat thought even as he gracefully leapt up to drop into the open cockpit of his newest Batmobile before the man could finish his thought.

Why kill a man to keep him from talking, when killing him all but confirmed who had armed him, and sent him and his friends onto the streets of his city with that death machine? It made no sense, and didn't show much of the sophistication of the Demon's Head he had come to expect when the guild was involved.

Unless Ra's had died, if he could think that confidently of such an event after all the times the master assassin had cheated death. To be honest, he still expected Talia's near immortal sire to yet come up with something to save himself from death one more time. Which meant an secondary may have sent out this new gang.

The question was; why? Especially when it bordered violating the oath the old man had given him. And Ra's had always taken his honor quite seriously. He still remembered that sad affair with Nigma when the master assassin had learned it had been him tampering with the Lazarus Pits. What had been left of the once brilliant, if twisted man had not been pretty.

Talia was gaping at him with wide eyes as she stared at his chest as he sent the Batmobile back down side streets to return to his patrol. "Something wrong," he asked her, wondering if he was pressing his luck by taking her where he was planning.

"You….You were shot. I saw you……shot. Why aren't you dead," she asked anxiously, gaping at him.

"Body armor," he said, taping his chest plate that barely showed the scars from the rounds that ricocheted off his chest.

She nodded. "I….I thought you were…..dead. For a moment, I thought….."

"I've been doing this a long time, Talia," he told her somberly. "Don't you remember that?" "Not….Not really," she finally admitted after a long pause, glancing away from his unrelenting stare.

"Well, I've been doing this longer than you might realize just now. And your father and I have often battled, as I told you. We might have to do so again."

"But…..he came to you for help. He came to you to save me. You told me so yourself."

"Your father isn't a fool," he said grimly as he noted another disturbance just a few blocks ahead, and steered toward it. "He knows how to exploit the talents of others when necessary. He just isn't too good at gratitude. Especially when he wants something."

"Oh," she murmured, and heard the rattling echo of gunfire as he pulled around a block, and entered a hell-storm of firepower as he put the Batmobile between the gang bangers, and the four beleaguered cops that were trying to hold out against the powerful automatic rifles in the hands of maddened children trying to kill them.

He eyed the gang members all wearing white handkerchiefs on their lower faces, and knew they were one of the new gangs to infiltrate Gotham in his absence. He had been studying them as he recovered from his ordeal in space, and knew they were bored, young teens who decided to turn from video games to live action games they took as seriously as those video fantasies that once amused them.

He stabbed a button, and smoke poured out of the undercarriage of the Batmobile as the teens now centered their fire on his vehicle, forgetting the police officers for the moment, and giving them time to get their injured comrades out of the line of fire, and regroup themselves as two more black and whites came speeding up even as the block was obscured by the artificial fog.

He didn't try to fight these deadly children one-on-one. There was too much danger of injuring, or killing bystanders the way they were indiscriminately firing into the fog now. He locked onto them with IFR, and launched a small canister right into the thick of the gang. The bright flash preceded a powerful tear gas of his own design that left the bangers stunned, and easy prey for the approaching police who now moved cautiously through the fog with masks on, emboldened by his presence.

Even as they quickly rounded up the teens, he was already pulling away.

He didn't even bother to disembark to question the teens. The sight of the same assault weapons in their hands told him all he wanted to know. The Assassin's Guild had armed them, too. How many others, he wondered as he turned grimly back to his patrol, seeing Talia's eyes still locked on the rear monitors that showed smoky silhouettes moving in the dispersing fog.

"Those were…..children," she gasped.

"No," he told him solemnly. "They long ceased being children when they stepped out into the streets, and started killing for amusement."

"I don't like this," she told him sincerely. "I don't like this world of yours at all."

He glanced over at her even as he neared the south entrance to the Park. "I've never liked it myself, Talia. But if I don't do something about it, who will?" "The….The police," she asked a bit hesitantly.

"Sometimes, even the police need help. Surely you've noticed that already."

She had nothing to say to that as he kept going, parking in the darkest part of the lot near the forested park that looked more than a little spooky to her untrained eyes. "Is there….trouble here, too," she asked as he pressed a switch that opened the Batmobile's canopy on both sides.

"No. Not here. Even the….. Well, no one in their right mind would make trouble here."

"Why not," she asked as she slowly climbed out of the vehicle to follow him into the shadows.

"Because," a voice like thick honey purred. "_I_ protect this place," a sleek redhead clad in green stated as she came out of the darkness just then.

"Do….You know her, too," Talia asked, glancing sharply at the green-clad woman who embraced Batman.

"We have a long….history," he told her.

"Pamela, I need you to watch….."

"I know who she is, lover," Pamela Ivy cooed as she reached up to stroke his masked face after glancing only briefly at the woman in denim with a peasant blouse. "You're living dangerously. Moreso than usual. I hear half of Gotham has been armed by the assassins tonight just to hunt you. Is she why?" "Not exactly. I told _him_ no again."

"Ah," the elemental creature pressed against him nodded. "I remember how poorly he takes refusals."

"I didn't know you had met," he stated, looking down into bright, green eyes.

"Not…directly. But over the years I have had….invitations."

He said nothing to that, just glanced lower, asking, "How are you doing?" "It's a very natural thing, lover," she cooed. "And you _know_ how well I do with nature."

"Yes, I do. Just watch Talia for me for a little while. My place was getting a little close for her, but I couldn't too well take her just anywhere else just yet."

"Of course. You can count on me," the elemental purred as she continued to embrace him.

"Be careful. Some of those armed gangs might try coming after you, too."

"Only if they're _really_ stupid," she smiled.

He nodded, and looked back at Talia before he started to leave. "You can trust Pamela, Talia. Do as she says, stay close, and don't go anywhere alone."

"All right," she nodded quietly.

He had already vanished even as she spoke, lost back in the shadows before she realized he was gone.

"I hate when he does that," Pamela sighed.

"So do I," she sighed. Then frowned as she stared into the darkness as the faint whine of jet turbines roared to life, and then faded from hearing as he left. "How do I know that?" Pamela eyed her. "You lost your memory?" "I….had a brain tumor. Bru….Batman operated on me with a friend, and saved my life. But it left me…..well…..with a big hole in my head where my mind used to be."

Pamela nodded. That slip fit easily into her own suspicions that had been growing from years past, and tailored perfectly into the new information she had to date.

Bru…..as in Bruce.

Bruce, as in Bruce Wayne.

Now she knew who her lover was after years of seeking his identity.

She knew there were men that would pay well for such knowledge. Even now, there were growing debates over whether the Batman really was the same man that disappeared some twenty years ago, or not. She had no doubts. She didn't understand how he had come back so young, and revitalized, but she knew it was him. She could sense such things.

"So, you don't remember anything," she asked the willowy brunette that truly seemed a blank slate to her just then.

"No," Talia sighed. "I….I almost grasp things at times, but then they slip away. _He_ thinks it may be my past warring with my heart."

"He usually is right," Pamela told her sincerely. "Although I didn't appreciate it at the time, he was always quite clever. More than clever, actually," she laughed softly as she stared around her, drinking in the pastoral setting like air into her lungs.

"You seem…..happy now," Talia noted.

"Yes, I am," the woman admitted. "Because I finally listened to him."

_**B**_

Ra's stood atop the building, the hooded cloak he wore billowing around him as the powerfully built cyborg beside him listened quietly to the speaker on the cell he had just answered. "Very well. I will tell him," Sayid said in a grim tone.

"He stopped them all," Ra's said curtly without waiting for his comrade to report.

"Yes. There wasn't even a single fatality. A few dozen incidental injuries, but not one death. The detective wasn't even scratched."

"That does not surprise me," the assassin drawled as his eyed scanned the city.

"Perhaps this will, master. He brought your daughter with him. She was left at Gotham Park with the plant elemental."

"Did he? Then she is well?"

"Our agents report she looked quite well," he nodded, putting his phone away. "A bit pale, but that is to be understood."

"So. _Ivy_. I had heard….rumors. All the same, I wish my daughter retrieved from the detective's care, Sayid. Immediately."

"I shall handle it personally," he told him.

"No. I have another job for you. That is something I want you to handle….personally."

Sayid glanced at his master, and mentor. "You know I serve only you, master. Command me."

Ra's smiled. It was not a comforting smile.

_**B**_

The men came out of the night, a full dozen, operating in teams of three.

The trios were a mark of the guild Ra's had instigated sometime back, he knew. He also knew they weren't trying to kill him. They were delaying him. He had spent a long night disarming, and taking down gangs, thugs, and punks, all with the same weaponry. By the time he reached Bullock, it was to hear what he already knew. That someone was arming even the lowest slime on the street with high-tech automatic weapons, and turning them loose on the streets.

He had found two warehouses where the weapons where being distributed, and shut them down. He knew there had to be more. He just didn't have time to locate them when he was still trying to quell all the brush fires popping up all over the city. Nor did it help that he was concerned for Selina as much as the other women in his life just then.

He wouldn't put it past whoever had started this conflagration to try taking them just to get under his skin. Whomever it was, they obviously had no intention of honoring Ra's earlier vows he would back off. Leaving the new commissioner, new to him, with banal assurances, he had quickly returned to the streets, and finally managed to quiet things down just a few hours after midnight.

That was when they came.

The twelve assassins.

Perhaps they thought he would be fatigued by now. At any ordinary time in his life, he would have been. Even then, however, he would have managed. Now, with his newly augmented form, they didn't have a chance.

Even as he as dropping the last man, a metallic tube dropped from a nearby rooftop, followed quickly by a man in black.

"Looks like you needed a little backup tonight," the man in the dark mask drawled as he straightened up from his drop, revealing the avarian wing design in white etched across his broad chest.

"Thought you were out of the game," Batman asked as he quickly secured the assassins in bonds even they couldn't escape.

"I was. Until someone tried to blow up Wayne-Tech right under my nose," he spat. "Then I realized what a war zone the streets had become, and….." Nightwing shrugged. "Seemed the League was busy with some threat in the Pacific, so I thought you might need a little help."

"Thanks. But I knew about the shooter on the roof."

"Then consider it a courtesy," Richard drawled. "You might have ducked the RPG, but I doubt those people watching from the windows would have been as fortunate."

"I knew you had him covered," Batman drawled as he headed toward the Batmobile again.

Nightwing shook his head, trying not to feel like the novice as he seemed to know everything all at once, without seeming to give any indication of that fact. Some things, he sighed, truly did not change. Not with his mentor.

"So, what's next."

"I think we'd better….."

"All units. All units. Disturbance at the mayor's mansion. All units respond."

The two looked at one another, and both leapt as one into the Batmobile, it's engines firing to life even as the Dark Knight settled behind the wheel. "So much for the vaunted word of Ra's al Ghul," he growled so somberly that even Nightwing had never heard the pure rage in his voice until just then. "He's the one involved in all this," he asked lamely, knowing it could be no one else.

He didn't get an answer. He didn't need one.

_**B**_

Barbara heard the shouts from her bodyguards even as she sit up in bed. A shiver of cold fear traced her spine as she recalled the nightmare she had been having, and for a moment feared it was _him_. Only even Joker had never realized that Batgirl and Barbara Gordon were one and the same. After all this time, it seemed unlikely he would track her down for some insane vendetta.

Of course, that pale freak was the very definition of insane, so you couldn't exactly expect anything out of him except the unexpected.

Still, the sounds of gunfire, and men screaming, men dying, did not sound like his usually subtle tactics just now.

Of course, there were times he had been as subtle as a jackhammer.

Ruthlessly shoving back her fear, she swung her legs to the floor, still glorying in her ability to move them after years of helpless paralysis. And if what she suspected was true, she was coming to life in more ways than one. Pretty good for a woman one step away from early menopause who had been chained to a wheelchair for so long.

Even as she considered going to the window to check out what was happening, a man in black garb from head-to-toe appeared in her doorway, holding up two very wicked daggers that gleamed silver in the dim light, resembling nothing more than two shiny fangs.

She gave a soft cry of disbelief even as he flung those blades, and instinct had her moving, somersaulting across the room to snatch up a small nightstand to intercept the blades obviously meant for her heart.

"Guess the whole kidnapping and ransom thing isn't involved here, is it," she asked as she pulled one of the daggers free and hurled it back to strike the man in his right shoulder.

The moment he stiffened, convulsed, and fell dead at her feet, she knew she was in trouble.

These weren't garden variety rent-a-thugs. This guy was a real assassin, and that dagger obviously meant for her had been poisoned.

"Time to get serious," she rasped as she fled to a closet where a great many dangerous secrets still lay hidden behind a hidden panel. She stared at the old costume, but felt it wasn't what she needed just now. Not when there was another lunatic who might just put a few things together if an apparent Batgirl showed up in the mayor's house when she was attacked.

She snatched a few things she had collected over the years, and quickly pulled them on over her body after all but ripping off her nightgown. She told herself she was only doing this to mask her identity, and protect her reputation, but another part of her couldn't help but thrill to the idea of once more throwing herself into the fray after being denied for so many years.

Padding over to the window, she looked down to find only a handful of her guards left, trying to hold back the shadowy figures that seemed to be cutting them down with relative ease. Bodies were strewn all over the lawn in front of her home, and she guessed the guards at the rear were likely gone, since that one bastard had made it all the way to her bedroom. Time to make an appearance, she told herself grimly as she fired the reliable zip line, and reveled in the weightless rush of nearly flying as she soared from the second floor of the mansion to the nearest tree.

After all, it wouldn't look too good for a vigilante's help to come from right out of the mansion itself.

Dropping down from the tree, she crept right behind one of the assassins even as she simultaneously fired a small cross-bolt from the wristband of her makeshift costume. The man dropped as the drugged dark struck him full in the back even as a practiced spin kick dropped her prey in front of her with a dull crack of his spine.

"Damn," she hissed, knowing she had not meant to kick him _that_ hard.

It was as if her reflexes and strength were amped up on super-charged adrenalin.

Still, he was a bad guy, and that was two down.

"Better stop daydreaming, gorgeous," a silky voice cooed as something fast, and deadly dropped down on a man behind her even as he was stalking her. "Or you won't last long in this biz."

Even as she spun to take in the sight of the tall, willowy and very furry figure with an honest-to-god tail trailing in her wake as she spun wildly through the air as she jumped from one assassin to the next, she shouted, "Selina!"

"Have we met, sweetie," Selina demanded even as her claws raked the face of one man, blinding him as her right leg lashed out to send another assassin flying even as she simultaneously dodged a wild shot from one of the panicked guards.

"In passing," she said, and chiding herself for her inattention, focused on the job at hand, and quickly aided the anthropoidal feline she had not seen in years in putting down the rest of the assassins.

"The mayor," one of the guards came running up to them. "We can't find the mayor," he exclaimed with obvious worry.

Selina gave a soft purring as she eyed her again as they stood among the guards that focused on disarming, and securing the fallen assassins, and smiled.

"Don't worry, little man," she murmured with that growling voice of hers almost mocking as she eyed Barbara. "We got the mayor out before her friends came out to play. We'll bring her out of hiding after we're sure this is over."

"Word is…..these guys have attacked the entire city," another of the guards exclaimed. "The Bat has been out all night trying to mop them up. Thank God he sent you here to help," he added as he glanced around him. "I thought we were all done for. The mayor especially."

"As my furry friend said," Barbara said quietly, lowering her voice the way Bruce had once taught her to do even when caped. "The mayor is hidden someplace safe. We'd better check the grounds before we let our guard down though," she suggested.

"Good idea," the guard nodded even as mocking laughter rang out.

They spun around, and a man in a circus vest with a glowing red eye smiled coldly at them as he lifted a gleaming, chrome rifle. "Two heroes at once," the cyborg assassin smiled. "The Master shall surely reward me for this night's work," he stated as he armed the weapon that began to hum with a shrill wine.

"Where do they get these guys," Barbara exclaimed even as Selina tensed, her hearing assailed by the shrill sounds that assaulted her heightened hearing.

_**B**_

Talia stared around her as Pamela walked her through the park lit by the sliver of moon that was enough to light the lush greenery around them. "It's a very beautiful place," she told Pamela as she walked beside her. "I can see why you like it here."

"I once wished the entire world could be like this again," she sighed. "But that is not to be. Not so long as men walk upon the earth."

"But…..wouldn't that make things just as bad for some people? I mean, how would people live? How would they work, or find help if they needed….I don't know, doctors, or something like that? Don't you need _some_ civilization, too?" Pamela sighed as she stopped to stare around her at the pristine park she kept in prime condition despite the city that surrounded it, threatened to choke it, and yet somehow was held back by her enigmatic relationship with the flora and fauna of her world.

"You speak of harmony. Balance. That is a part of what nature is all about, Talia. I forgot that for a time, but _he_ reminded me. Just as he reminded me I myself am a part of that balance. Still, men in general tend to overlook the need for such harmony in their mad quest for more and more at the cost of their own world, risking even their own descendants' survival."

"Now you sound like my father," Talia drawled.

"You….remember that?"

"Only….pieces. As I said, it comes and goes. But….I think I have heard that reasoning many times. Often enough that it has apparently stuck with me even now."

"I heard it from him, too," Pamela admitted as they strolled to a line of thick, high oaks that bordered the dark waters of the bay. "He….approached me a few times, thinking I would welcome his guidance in my own ambitions to rid the world of such abuses. All I heard from him, however, was the same rhetoric, and threats that seem to spill from all those in power."

"Yes," Talia nodded. "I think…..I think very few are willing to do more than look beyond their own thirst for power in the quest for their goals. Not even…..my father."

"He is. He does," Pamela murmured even as Talia gave a soft yelp as unseen hands pulled her into the darker shadows behind the trees.

"Assassins," Pamela hissed, turning to face them. "Trespassers. How dare you…..?" "Be silent, plant," one of the men spat, and opened fire on her with a small semi automatic.

"Pamela," Talia cried out, reacting instinctively as she drove an elbow into the gut of the man holding her even as she spun around and leapt up to drive a hard heel into the face of another man. By the time she reached the gunman, Pamela had gone down under a hail of bullets. It did not stop her from driving a lethal palm into the man's septum, shattering his nose as the cartilage splintered up into his brain, dropping him instantly.

Ignoring the other two still gasping for air, she raced to Pamela's side, even as the woman rose from the ground with emerald fire blazing in her eyes. "Vile, misogynistic, intruders," she snarled with all the rage of an indignant goddess.

"Let there be an end to you," she railed even as Talia saw the bloody holes in her body glowing faintly emerald green as they healed with a swiftness that was beyond natural even in her world.

Even as she was speaking, Pamela's hands rose, and the three bodies rose in the grip of thick, massive vines studded with deadly spines. The two living men howled in agony as the deadly toxins from those spines pierced their flesh and began the work of ending their lives.

"Pamela, stop," Talia cried, hearing a strange rustling all around her, and men crying out in pain from the shadows. "Pamela, you can't just kill them. Remember….. Remember what you told me about him? Remember what Batman taught you."

The redhead calmed somewhat as her eyes gradually returned to normal, but the look of fury was still there. Mingled with fear. "I…..I know. Still……If they hurt our baby," she said, and for a moment it looked like the woman was torn between weeping, or lapsing back into her earlier rage. Then she face calmed, and her serene features returned as she nodded. "For you. For him, I will relent. But that does not mean I'll leave them to go their way unscathed," she said with as cold a tone as Talia could remember ever hearing just then as her eyes began to glow even more brilliantly than before, and she seemed to look out at a world only she could see.

_**B**_

The Batmobile raced through the streets, past fires, and countless ambulances, and rescue units still reacting to the chaos of the night's events. Even as they considered stopping their rush to reach Barbara to aid those yet in need, they began to notice something that was very much out of the ordinary.

Along the streets, once filled with thugs, bangers, and cops fighting for their lives, now, only the cops were walking freely, obviously stunned to find their criminal counterparts securely wrapped up in the thick, unyielding vines that held them until they could take them into custody. Along with the usual offering of such criminals, they occasionally spotted a masked assassin squirming vainly to escape .

"Looks like Ivy finally decided to get involved tonight, too," Nightwing commented as they turned up the private lane that led to the mayor's mansion where half a dozen squads were already arriving at that very moment.

"I expected it," Batman drawled.

"You say that like you almost counted on it," Nightwing observed.

"Let's say it occurred to me she might be drawn into this when I dropped Talia off in her care."

"Wow," the still younger hero drawled. "You are still unbelievable. You know that?" "In this business, you either stay ahead of your opponents, or you die."

"Ouch. Well, it's not like I don't know that by now," he exclaimed.

After a moment he added, "Do you think Barb….?" "We'll know when we get there."

Which was just a scant thirty seconds later when they both jumped from the idling vehicle to find Selina standing next to a brunette in a sleek, black bodysuit with silver bands on her wrists that looked very familiar to the perceptive.

"A friend of the Huntress," Batman asked knowingly as he eyed her mask that was tied over the top of her head, and covered her face to her pert nostrils.

"You could say that," she nodded, and then glanced up at the man dangling from a wire by his heels, bound in a thin, wire net that was shimmering with occasional sparks. "I take it you came for this guy?" "Sayid," he nodded. "Ra's al Ghul's lieutenant."

The unconscious man was not the only victim. Everywhere about them, any assassin not already caught was writing in the grip of those massive vines that had risen out of the ground to snare them. "And I suppose Ivy helped out here, too," Selina asked a bit cattily.

"She was likely provoked," Batman drawled as Barbara stared at Nightwing.

"I'm surprised to see you here," the apparently new heroine drawled a bit curtly. "Weren't you retired?" "As Ivy, I was….provoked," he told her, his heart telling him this was Barbara, but his mind unable to conceive of the possibility as being true.

"Where is the mayor," he asked.

"Safe. I'll bring her back when the mansion is secured again," she told him bluntly as one of the guards approached them even as Batman cut Sayid down.

"You seem surprised to see us, lover," Selina followed him to purr in his ear.

"Not so much surprised, as…..relieved. I had not realized….._she_ was capable of defending herself so well as yet."

"She has a bit of rust on her," the older woman chuckled softly, "But she is still a real hellion when she's inspired. I think this machine was far more surprised when she flew at him.

"He never stood a chance."

"I won't lament her fortune, but she needs to be careful."

"Tell that to the men she saved," Selina grunted.

"So, what brought you here," he asked as he pulled a stimulant from his belt, and waved beneath the cyborg's nostrils.

"I was visited earlier this evening by a few of these thugs. A little convincing, and they told me their other targets. You, I knew, could handle them. Like you, however, I wasn't so sure about….the mayor. Imagine my surprise to see _this_ little vixen taking out the thugs as easily as anyone I'd ever seen More than one are going to need medical care, though. I think she's stronger than she looks."

"A….byproduct of the treatment," he said as Sayid moaned, and slowly began to shake his head as he regained his senses.

"Hello, assassin," Batman's cold eyes focused on him when he regained his wits.

"You," the man hissed.

"Me. Where is Ra's? What happened to him, and why did you attack my city? Answer me."

Sayid glared at him, fear evident in that one human eye, but still holding out stubbornly. "I would never betray my master, or my comrades, vigilante," he spat. "You should know that."

"Tonight's folly has seriously crippled your guild, and your master's waning power," he told him curtly. "We had a pact. Why was it violated? Who ordered this attack?"

Sayid refused to speak even as Batman's hand moved to his belt, and pulled out a small, gray square that he held carefully by one flat edge. "Do you know what this is, Sayid?" The cyborg glared, but his fear was more obvious than ever as both eyes focused on the small memory card.

"I can shut down your cybernetic systems for good with this," the detective threatened as he held the pronged edge close to his eyes. "I just have to slip it into your maintenance port, and you'll find yourself a cripple again. Nor could you be rebuilt. This program also dampens your neurological responses, making future upgrades impossible. Now, what is your choice, assassin?" "Go to hell," he spat, struggling vainly with the electro-magnetically charged net that held him captive, circumventing his mechanically-enhanced body.

"You first," Batman growled, and slid the small memory card into the hidden port just beneath his gaudy vest.

Sayid's scream echoed for several minutes before his body went absolutely still, and for the first time in many years, tears fell from his one human eye as he stared helplessly up at the dark silhouette stooped over him.

"Enjoy the rest of your life, assassin," he growled as he rose to tower over the inactive cyborg.

"Damn, lover," Selina exclaimed as they walked back over to join Nightwing and the masked mayor. "I didn't know you had developed such a mean streak."

Batman glanced at her, then at Barbara, and turned toward the Batmobile as he remarked, "You two had better get the mayor back so she can reassure the people of Gotham that this madness is over. I'll talk to Bullock before I…..finish my patrol. Nightwing," he glanced toward his former partner. I could use a ride," the young man nodded. "I'll catch up with you later….."

"Vixen," Selina smiled as Barbara was caught flatfooted as several of the officers turned to listen to them, wondering themselves just who she was. "This is Vixen."

The newly christened heroine smiled as she added, "But I'm not sure if I'll be doing this too often. It's….still a bit much to take in."

"We'll talk later," Batman growled, and climbed into the Batmobile.

"Count on it," Vixen agreed.

"Yeah," Nightwing echoed, casting a last glance back at her before he climbed in to speed off with him as the pair were left standing alone for a moment.

"Did you anticipate _that_," Nightwing demanded as they raced back into the heart of the city.

Batman, understanding completely, merely stated, "Not at first. After J'onn's report on your reaction to the new arm, however, I…..suspected something of the sort might occur."

"When were you going to mention it to us," he demanded.

"I already informed Barbara of what to expect."

"Terrific," he grumbled. "So, are you two…..?" "You're both adults. Ask her yourself."

He had nothing more to say to that as they returned to the city, and oversaw the last mopping up of the more daring criminal element that had tried to strike at the very heart of a fearful city, thinking their chances were better than one lone vigilante playing hero. By morning, the overcrowded cells, and hospital rooms, would tell them all just how wrong they had been.

_**B**_

Some blocks away, atop a seemingly deserted building, a long figure stared at the result of the night's campaign and screamed into the night. If that voice was more than a bit shrill, and manic, perhaps they could not be blamed.

Overnight, the entire contingent of the Assassin's Guild in Gotham had been stopped, paralyzed, and rendered impotent because of one man. One man that seemed as untouchable as ever before. The scream echoed for a long time over the streets of Gotham, and if it seemed to go unheard, it was only because of the greater chaos of sirens, and calls for help still ringing through the air over much of the city.

_TO BE CONTINUED………_


	5. Chapter 5

_**THE BAT: **_

_**LEGACY**_

_**By LJ58**_

**Part 5:**

The blur of the speeding object was barely noticeable until the rush of air in its wake almost blew more than a few people off their feet. That, and the sonic boom that sounded in its wake. In many larger cities, and the surrounding regions, people were used to such events as a matter of course. Metas were more common now than ever, and even the famed Justice League had more and younger members than ever.

Captain James Malmoud was not used to such things, though.

One moment earlier he had been screaming at the deck hands as the bow sank ever lower while he watched seawater rushing into the hold from the jagged rent torn in the starboard side while they fought vainly against time to fit over two hundred crewmen into a few lifeboats that could carry only half that number. The usual panic ensued, all of them knowing that less than a minute in that arctic water was going to kill them, and all of them wanted to be the next one in the lifeboat. Hence the screaming as he tried to get his younger men into the boats, knowing they still had families. Most of them with wives, and children.

Captain Malmoud had been on the sea so long he had lost both. Still, no one was heeding his authority at the very moment the sonic boom was echoed by a second, and the entire nose of the ship suddenly lurched.

One moment he had been shouting…..pleading for order, and the next, his entire ship was somehow hovering over the low-floating iceberg that had torn his hull out from under him. Another blur of motion, and water began to actually spiral down out of the ship faster than it could possibly spill as four men who had been forced over the rail into the water somehow rose before his eyes, and dropped onto the deck beside him where he clung tightly to the railing, gaping alongside his stunned crew.

For just one lone minute they were hovering over the ocean itself, the barnacles below the waterline easily visible as he craned his neck over the side to see what was happening, and try to understand this miracle of Allah. Then the ship settled back down, and in the same instant, a dull series of vibrations hammered the torn metal plates so fast, and so hard he thought the ship was literally coming apart. Only the ship now bobbed easily atop the deceptively welcoming blue waters, and the lifeboats that had been floating around the ship were somehow back in their docking ports, and the stunned crewmembers still sitting in them wondering what had just happened.

"Everything else all right, captain," a friendly voice asked in English.

The captain, a veteran of many ports, nodded mechanically as he turned to see two figures in garishly colored red and gold costumes standing before him where no one had been standing before just a second ago. One of them young, and obviously female; the other tall and masculine, glowing with power that seemed to radiate from his very person.

"You sure you're okay," the female spoke openly, but he did not chide her. He knew western women had unusual liberties even in today's world. Especially in today's world, where some were more powerful than a hundred men.

"Th-Thank you," he managed to choke out, still unable to believe they had been spared, and so swiftly.

"Just doing our jobs, captain. Go with God," the bigger male smiled, giving him the traditional greeting just before he and the small female simply…..vanished.

All that was left behind were twin sonic booms as he spied a wake of motion that the sea quickly swallowed as they literally raced away across the surface of the sea itself. They were gone in an eye blink, and all he could do was stand and stare.

Never had he seen such a sight.

Never.

And he had been on the sea for almost fifty years man and boy.

Turning back to his stunned crew, he lapsed back into the familiar, and comfortable as he began to shout orders, scold the men who had panicked, and set a new course for their home port. He had not failed to notice the iceberg that had been floating before them was gone. Shattered into harmless pieces of ice that would not have troubled even a rubber raft. All in but a handful of seconds.

It was…..a miracle.

_**B**_

"You were pretty good for an old man," Pulse laughed teasingly as they raced across the South Atlantic, heading back to the States.

"Someone was a little slow getting those men out of the water. Another few seconds and they would have been beyond saving," Wally told his daughter. "Remember, they aren't as resilient as we are.

"Next time, go for the people first, and then take on the bigger jobs unless there is immediate danger elsewhere. In water like that, seconds do count."

"I know. But they made it didn't they? Besides, I had to make sure you could handle the ship okay by yourself. I'll bet even the Martian didn't know how well you were going to recover your full speed, or how your metabolism was going to handle it."

"Worrying about the old fossil," Wally grinned at his daughter.

"Dad," she groaned, even as they reached the Florida coast, and raced up the interstates toward home.

"I might not have had my legs at the time, little girl, but I still have ears. Besides, I felt like a fossil," he chortled at himself. "A _hungry _fossil. Let's stop and grab a few dozen burgers."

She was quick to agree.

"Thank God for superhuman metabolisms," Pulse grinned a few minutes later as she finished off almost as much food as her father in a restaurant where they were surrounded by colorfully clad heroes and heroines.

"Thank God for costumed events," Flash winked at her as he noted there were at least five other Flashes in the place they had stopped at besides himself. Several of them quite authentic looking.

"Yeah," she grimaced, not seeing a single copy of herself. "Way to go."

"Wait till you've saved the world a few more times, girl," her father chuckled, understanding perfectly. "Trust me, after a time, you'll wish they'd just leave you alone."

"Really?" "Well, that's what Diana always said," he grinned impishly.

She giggled at him, enjoying the time spent with her father in a way she had never thought possible.

They were just stepping outside, at human speed, when the car came speeding toward the crowd just forming for a parade, two police cars behind them with guns firing. If they were shooting in the presence of the crowd, they had to be dangerous men, and both of them knew it.

"Take out the stray bullets," he shouted even as the crowds screamed, and leap in different directions. "I have the car."

Pulse was already gone, her gloved hands easily reaching hypersonic speeds to slap the bullets from the air, and keep them deflected from the helpless crowd only just beginning to realize they weren't falling dead or injured after all as the suspect's car suddenly smashed into an invisible barrier, and flipped upside down.

By the time the car stopped spinning on its top, and the police arrived to surround it, every man inside was disarmed, and more than a little nauseous.

The growing crowd broke into applause as Flash and Pulse stood beside the police taking the men into custody, giving their report before they turned to bow to the crowd, and then disappeared in a blur of speed their gaping imitators could never hope to manage.

"That was fun," Pulse hooted as she raced alongside her father once more, headed for the League headquarters near Central City to report before heading home.

"Always," he agreed. "But J'onn is going to have a fit."

"You mean because you were supposed to keep a low profile while you tested your abilities the first time out, weren't you?"

"Well," he grinned, easily ducking a slow moving, to him, semi as they cut across a crowded interstate, and turned west for the final leg home. "For me, that was low profile. Let's just not tell your mother. You know how she sometimes worries."

"Tell me about it. Ever since Doug almost bit it last year, she's been watching me like I'm about to….."

"She worries. So do I," he said somberly. "I got pretty close to the big one myself a few times, Pulse," he told her, using her codename while in costume. "I never think it _can't_ happen. What I do, I do in spite of that."

"Wow. Guess Bats gave you the same lecture in your day, huh," she asked.

"Sweetie," he laughed. "Bats _never_ lectures. He tells you like it is, and lets you do your own thing. Now, if you want a lecture, piss off the _big_ cape. That man could make a saint feel like a naughty little boy," he laughed.

"I know," she grimaced. "Techno hacked the Pentagon his first day on the job. Just trying to get some Intel on one of their rogues, you know? And the way Supes tore into him….."

"I was there," he laughed. "I'm just glad Techno didn't tell him I suggested it."

They were still laughing when they burst into the back door of his home at just before seven. In the split second of time it took to cross the threshold, both of them were already back in their civvies even before the door shut behind them. Linda, fully dressed, but still home, stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, and glaring at them.

"Low profile, _Walter_," she grumbled, one hand moving to geature at the small television blaring out the newscasts. "I see you still don't have an understanding of certain basic concepts."

He grinned sheepishly as he saw the news station blaring the _Return of the Flash?_ in word and scrolling it repeatedly as scenes from the thwarted robbery were replayed again and again, captured by security cameras that made it seem the car had just stopped, and flipped over a second before the Flash had seemed to just appear on the scene. At his side, Pulse stood grinning ear-to-ear, and looking fairly smug.

"And you, young lady, have school today. What did we say about school nights?" "Now, sweetheart, technically this is morning, and……" Wally grinned, stepping forward as if to hug her before her scowl darkened, and she tensed to hold him off.

"Don't you sweetheart me, Walter. You said you'd take this slow. That you'd follow J'onn's advice, and not jump into anything before you were sure….."

"But, Linda, I am. We only kind of stumbled into that heist. We stopped south of St. Louis for a bite, and….." "St. Louis is not taking it slow," she scowled. "Running about the country like a madman looking for trouble….."

"We didn't go looking for trouble, mom," Janey told her as she went to the table to pour herself a very large bowl of cereal. "We were just on our way back from the Antarctic after stretching our legs….." She saw her father's warning gesture too late.

"_The_ _Antarctic_," she hissed, eyeing him as coldly as she ever had. "You dragged my baby to the south pole? _You_ went to the south pole, when you don't even know…..?" "Linda," he said, trying to calm her. "It was perfectly safe. I've been tiptoeing around all week, and running circles on treadmills and tracks until I couldn't stand it. I woke up restless this morning, and thought I would just try to stretch my legs, and see how rusty I was after…..well, you know," he grimaced as her scowl did not ease.

"Yeah, mom. It wasn't his fault I heard him go out. I kind of snuck out, and followed at the start. Good thing, too, or he wouldn't have been able to save everyone on that cargo ship when we…… "Eep," she cut herself off when her mother's eyes shifted to her.

"You saved a cargo ship? In the Antarctic," she asked Wally curtly.

"Linda. Honey, it's like I have been trying to tell J'onn. I feel…..stronger, _and_ faster than ever before. I think I _am_ faster than I ever was before. Which is saying something. I'm getting more control, too. I even managed to phase right though an iceberg without blowing it apart like I usually do."

"He's right, mom," Janey couldn't help putting in, noticing her mother was finally cooling down a little. "Fast as I am, he actually had to slow down a few times to keep from leaving me behind.

"Didn't think I noticed, did you," she smirked at her father as she refilled her bowl.

"You….did all that just this morning," she asked.

"Well….yeah," Wally said, and went over and snapped off the portable television on the kitchen counter. "Look, I'm sorry. But….I've just had this…..gift given back to me, and I had to find out what I could still do. I was going crazy doing the lab rat thing for J'onn, and I felt like if I didn't really let loose I was going to……"

"Explode," Janey offered.

"Yeah. Exactly," Wally grinned, holding his arms out to his wife again.

She sighed. Shaking her head, she let him embrace her, returning the hug as she grumbled, "Great, now I've got _two_ children again."

"Hey," they both complained.

"You, young lady, are still close to grounding. Don't think I won't do it," she told her daughter as she turned on her. "And you have thirty-three minutes to get ready, and get to school before you're late. So don't even think of telling me you don't have time. Get going."

Wally smiled as he sat down, "So, why are you still home?"

"It's my day off, Walter," she sighed as Janey vanished in a blur of speed, and several crashes sounded in her wake.

"Not in the house," they both shouted out of habit.

They grinned, and he asked, "So, how about breakfast?" "What did you want?" "No, no. My treat. We'll go out to that new buffet. The all-you-can eat place they opened down on Spencer."

"Uh-oh," she grinned despite herself. "Oh, all right. They can always ban you later."

"No, no. They'll welcome me as free publicity.

"I can just see it now. _Flash eats here! _I should charge them for the promotion."

"Walter," she scowled.

"It was a joke," he insisted.

She pointed at him, smirking. "I mean…..are you going in your pajamas?"

He looked down, blushing. He had been in his pajamas went he went speedster. He had somehow managed to forget that. "Right. Be back in a sec."

"Not in the house," she yelled after him, though nothing broke in his wake. He had more practice at dodging obstacles. Apparently, he wasn't that rusty after all.

She smiled after him, secretly grateful he had gotten out of the house, and was on his way back to being the man she had fell in love with so many years ago. She had been worrying for years he was growing too melancholy in spite of his position with the League as the new Oracle. If anything, she felt that had made things worse for him, surrounding him with reminders of what he could never have again.

As much as she had never cared for that dark character, she was more than grateful that Batman had returned to give Wally back his legs. The part of her that was a dedicated medical professional couldn't help but wonder if that same technology couldn't help the thousands out there that didn't have the chance at such miracles.

She'd have to broach it with J'onn. Although she still felt a little uneasy around the Martian even in his human shape. He just seemed so…..peculiar.

"Ready to go," Wally asked, appearing at her side in what seemed just an instant later fully dressed.

"I'm gone," Janey shouted, and the sound of the front door slamming announced her departure eloquently.

She looked up at her husband, and smiled. "I'm ready," she told him. Just as both their beepers went off. They both looked disappointed as they looked down at their beepers and groaned.

_**B**_

"Sorry for the short notice," J'onn told him. "However, when word reached me about your….nocturnal exploits, I had to take this opportunity to give you a full physical after you had so obviously gone against my advice and stretched yourself to the limit."

"I wasn't stretched. I wasn't even close," Wally snorted as the disguised Martian studied the many readings from wires hooked to him as the surrounding computers made the usual noises as he stood perfectly still on the treadmill, clad only in his shorts just then.

"Is that right," Dr. Jones asked him, arching a brow like another stick-in-the-mud he knew.

"Want proof," Wally asked him as he fingered the gold ring on his right hand.

"I'd rather test your……"

"Test this," Wally grinned, in full uniform as he held out a small, delicate cup of tea.

"Earl Gray, two lumps, no cream or lemon," he added as the doctor warily took the steaming cup. "Fresh from London, England," he added smugly.

J'onn glanced at his monitors, which recorded little more than a few seconds break in the readings from the hero beside him, and now were attached to him over his costume. He was showing not even the faintest signs of fatigue, or slowdown. If anything, the results indicated someone who had been having an idle moment, and had been doing nothing more than sharing the time of day.

"Convinced," he demanded.

"Astonished, actually. You do realize you'll need to be doubly careful. We have indications that this technology can…..exponentially increase strength, reflexive responses, and adrenal flow beyond your usual state. Both Nightwing, and….another test subject, showed marked increases in those areas even before we realized it was possible."

"Nightwing, huh? Heard the Bird-boy was back."

"Perhaps. That has yet to be decided. I, however, am more concerned with you. Remember, your old metabolism had you reaching dangerous peaks that required….."

"I know, J'onn. Trust me, I've considered all the pros and cons, and listened to every word you and Bats have crammed into my ears. Now, listen to me. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. If anything, I have more control than ever. Look," he said, and began vibrating his hand as speeds impossible to track with the human eye, he waved his hand back and forth through the nearby treadmill frame without even disrupting the device in the slightest.

"When could I ever do that," he grinned.

"All the same, I would like you to…..keep me aware of any unusual developments."

"Hey, I'm the fastest man alive, Dr. Jones," he grinned. "What isn't unusual about me," he asked as he swept his hand down his still trim torso, removing the wires in one move. "Now, if that's all you wanted, I have a delayed date with my wife."

"All right. Just be…… Careful," J'onn sighed as the scarlet speedster vanished again, this time leaving him alone with the still steaming cup of tea.

He carefully lifted the cup to his lips, sipping lightly, and smiled faintly. "It is quite good," he commented to no one in particular, and turned to his work with the cup in hand.

_**B**_

Talia wiped the sweat from her brow as she finished the somersault off the parallel bars, and landed easily on tiptoe beside her new mentor. "I….didn't know I could…..even do that," she exclaimed as she smiled up at her grim companion running hands down her sleek body clad in a dark green bodysuit that seemed made for her.

"You have far more potential than you yet realize," he told her, monitoring her physiology with the remote sensors attached to her body even as he studied her moves. "Pamela told me you handled yourself quite well last week with those assassins in the park, too."

"Did you….get a chance to check….?" "She, and the baby are fine," he told her. "Apparently, her own unique physiology protected it, as well as herself."

"Have you….heard anything else from my father?" "Not a word. None of the captured assassins are talking, not that that is unexpected. Still, rumors are starting to rise that he truly has died this time."

"You don't believe them?" "I'll believe it when I see his body."

Talia nodded. "What of the source of the illegal arms you were tracing."

"Dead ends. But I suspect some of them came from arms dealers that originated in Metropolis. That's a connection I have turned over to someone else to trace. Gotham is what concerns me just now.

"Rest period is over," he added in almost the same breath. "Now, lets see how well you spar hand-to-hand."

"With you," she exclaimed, staring at him in amazement.

"There is no one else here," he pointed out, clad only in his bodysuit without the cape and cowl just then.

Before he even finished speaking, his right hand flashed out. She caught it just short of her left breast, and countered. His smile was somber as they launched into a furious display of unarmed combat that would have left grandmasters gaping before they were finished.

_**B**_

"I need someone like you," the hooded figure rasped as they stood before the masked man in a tailored suit. "I have money, and weapons, but I need men to use them. I need an army, and I need it now."

"And what do I get for risking my boys," the man in the black mask asked as he feigned indifference to the slight figure that had not only found his hideout, but broke in, and left over a dozen of his men laying moaning, or unconscious around them.

"As I said. I have money."

"I can always get money, babe," he drawled, eyeing the cloaked figure knowingly.

A small, but powerful fist hammered down on the desk before him, splintering the thick wood as the low voice exploded from behind her own mask. "I am not accustomed to bargaining with common rogues, Thorne," she hissed. "I owe the Bat a blood debt. And I mean to see it repaid. A thousandfold."

"That much. Let me tell you something, babe," the masked man drawled.

The fist rose beneath his masked nose. "Address me so again, Thorne, and I'll be speaking with your successor."

The masked man chuckled. "What's wrong? Your time of the month?"

The growl that came from beneath that hood was more than eloquent.

"Let me tell you something. I've seen armies go against the Bat. I mean _armies_. He's still here. Now they're even saying he's come back from the dead? Frankly, I believe it. I've seen stranger things. After all, we all have…..our secrets. Don't we, _assassin_," the masked man chortled.

"And what do you think you know," the woman's voice retorted from beneath the cloak.

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, too," the man drawled. "You'd be surprised at what I know. Word is, you didn't fare too well when you tried to steal the Bat's new toys. Guess you are the only one here to really know how both sides of the street live now, though," he laughed.

The figure all but growled.

"So, do you still go by Ra's al Ghul? Or _Rose_ al Ghul," the masked man chortled.

The cloaked figure shook with rage as small hands jerked back her cloak, revealing a young, pretty face framed by red-gold curls. "You come dangerously close to your own end, Thorne," she hissed, her body clad in an assassin's uniform of red and gold, with matching daggers at her hips.

"Oh, I don't doubt you're just as formidable as ever, _lady_," he addressed her. "But you're letting your emotions get the better of you. Guess those hormones really are a _bitch. _Still, you think about it, and you'll know I'm right. You won't get anywhere tackling the Dark Knight in that state of mind. He'll have you caught, stuffed, and mounted so fast you'll think you were never free. You should remember that with the Bat you have to be subtle. Patient. And….being just a little mad helps," he chuckled again.

"You aren't Thorne," silver-gray eyes narrowed shrewdly as the remade assassin stood studying him in spite of his common, linen mask. "You may wear his name, but you aren't he."

"Well, we all wear _more_ than one face in this world," the man chuckled. "We just have to decide which face we want to put forward."

"So you say," the woman who had been Ra's al Ghul, the demon's head glowered. "All I care about is seeing the detective broken, and finally dead at my feet. Now, do you assist me, or do I speak to your successor," she spat irritably.

"Cranky, aren't we? Now, as I said, patience. If you've the….balls for it," he chortled. "I do have a role for you in a little endgame that I, and a certain _cohort_ are planning."

"Tell me more," she demanded as one of the men groaning behind him finally fell silent.

"Sure. As long as you stop with the temper tantrums, and leave off with the threats. After all, I'm rather fond of my life, such as it is, and I need all of my men in one piece if we're going to pull this off. Unless you think you can manage to add to our numbers," he asked suggestively.

Her pale eyes glowed silver with fury for a moment, but years of experience did win out over her fury, and she drew a deep breath as she told him, "I might just have an idea that will help both of us. If you don't mind listening to a female," she added caustically.

"First time for everything," the masked man quipped carelessly, oddly attracted to the voluptuous redhead despite the fact his spies had told him that she really was the infamous assassin of legend in a new incarnation. "Who knows," he added. "This might even be the start of a most pleasurable association for the both of us."

Ra's scowled as she pulled her hood back over her head, and closed the cloak to hide her feminine curves from his scrutiny. "I suggest we stick to business," she spat, ruthlessly shoving aside those other sensations this troubling body kept insisting on foisting off on her.

On him, as a part of herself still felt quite male, even if she no longer looked it.

She grumbled low in her throat as she began to feel out this faux Thorne, and tried to draw out his own plans to see how they might aid or hamper her own. In the end, though, the greater part of her wanted only one thing. The bloody corpse of her enemy at her feet. Nothing else mattered to her just then. Nothing at all.

For even his daughter had apparently turned her back on him. On her. Choosing to side with his longtime nemesis against her own blood, especially after what he had allowed to be done to her, was inexcusable. It was not to be condoned. It was not to be forgiven. Once, and for all, all her enemies would suffer the ultimate fate, and then let the world tremble.

_**B**_

"Richard," Barbara smiled as she saw the door to her city office open to reveal him standing there in masculine splendor.

"I heard you would like to speak to me about the fundraiser you're holding next month. I'm rather surprised you've decided to run for the governor's office after…..last week."

"Close the door," she gestured as she rolled her chair back away from her desk. When he did, she pressed a hidden switch under the arm of her wheelchair, and nodded.

"Now, we can speak freely."

"So, what is this really about, Barbara," he asked grimly.

"A lot of things, actually. And don't think I haven't noticed Nightwing has been out there just as often as _Vixen_ of late."

"For some reason, Wayne-Tech has been painted with a big bull's-eye of late. I'm trying to see it lasts long enough to complete the new testing on the medical applications of….. Well, our new _medical_ technology."

"Commendable. If I believed that."

"So, maybe you'll tell me why you gave me that bull about the gubernatorial fundraiser? What's really on your mind," he asked her again.

She sighed, and lifted her hands. "I've had a lot to think about in this past week. There's something you should know," she told him.

"Yeah," he grunted, unable to keep from sounding a bit like a petulant child just then.

"I guess I deserved that, but….please, just hear me out."

"I'm still here," he told her, not stepping any closer.

"You know…..Bruce and I were close once."

"Old news. Or is it," he asked pointedly.

"Let me finish," she sighed.

"I'm listening," he nodded sullenly as he walked over to look out her window, studying the vista before him before turning back to study her.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I never hoped……for more. Only, there is no more. Not for us. We both know how he is, and I thought I had gotten over him. Over…..both of them," she told him pointedly. "Then he showed back up last month, and things started happening so fast. He even gave me my legs back, though I can't too well let anyone know it just now. If ever," she said a bit morosely.

"I guess it is easier for Richard Grayson to try out his new discovery on himself," he admitted in a subdued tone as he held up his right hand.

"Yes, and I….I'm not really that upset. What does upset me is……."

"Yeah," he asked as he took a single step forward.

"Well, for a time, everything all came together at once, and my feelings were still all screwed up. I let past crushes overwhelm me, and…..oh, hell, you know how it is with him. He's just so…..larger than life."

"Getting to a point anytime soon," he asked somberly as he made a show at glancing at his watch.

"Damn it, Dick, I'm trying to say……I'm pregnant," she spat out.

He stared at her, his eyes briefly going to her still flat belly, and then to her wide, green eyes. "You're kidding? You're not," he said when he took in her hurt expression.

"Okay, so…..I guess you made your decision….."

"Yes, I have," she cut him off before he could turn to go.

"I chose you. If….you'll still have me."

Richard's jaw dropped. "But you just said….? I mean, it _is_…..?"

"Yes. But it is also mine. And I don't want _my_ child raised in that environment. His environment. You think I don't remember Jason? Or all the others that have fallen into that abyss? I've had a week to think about it, Dick, and my answer is this gubernatorial election. I'm sticking with what I now know is best for all of us. Especially me. I want to make a difference for everyone out there, not just a few people on the street. Batman is…..well, he's Batman," she shrugged. "But I'm not Batgirl, or Oracle, or even Vixen. Last night, I destroyed _everything_. Every last trace of my old life. I'm moving on. The question is…..Do you still want to move on with me?" Richard frowned at her as she seemed to cringe, as if fearing his response. "Are you….proposing," he asked a little uneasily.

"Maybe," she demurred with a nervous smile. "What would you say if I were?"

He suddenly smiled. Then wider. "I'd have to say yes. It wouldn't look good for an unwed mother trying to run for governor," he told her.

"And…..your own alter ego?" "Like you said…..maybe it's time we both stepped away from that abyss. I can't deny I didn't enjoy the thrill. Almost like old times. But it isn't. Not for me. Not for us. Besides, running Wayne-Tech has its own challenges. And just think of your platform if you help me push through human testing of our new prosthetics line," he grinned. "Why….Wayne-Tech might just might even help you walk again before we're finished," he winked as he crossed the room, and leaned over to hug her even as a knock sounded at the door.

"I think this conference is about over," Barbara sniffed suspiciously as her secretary asked why she wasn't answering her page through the door, shaking the handle as she did.

"Tonight, Bernie's, eight o'clock," he asked as he gave her a peck on the cheek, and straightened up even as she pressed the hidden stud on her desk that once more freed her office's special security systems. He pretended not to see the tear she wiped away, but smiled all the same.

"I'm looking forward to it," she beamed even as shifted her chair back toward her desk as Evelyn almost fell through the suddenly open door.

"Ms. Gordon, I…..

"Oh," she blushed as she saw the residual flushes on both faces as Dick gave her a jaunty salute, and left the office.

"Yes, Evie? What was it," Barbara asked after clearing her throat as she rolled her chair back behind her desk, feeling suspicious tingles in her body in places where she had not felt anything for a very long time. She couldn't help smiling as her secretary and aide of seven years gaped at her.

"Did you and Mr. Grayson finally make up," she asked.

"You might say that. Remind me I have an eight o'clock appointment with Mr. Grayson to….ah, discuss the governor's race," she told her.

Evelyn nodded her head numbly, then shook her head as if only just remembering why she was there. "Oh, and you have the state's district attorney on line one concerning the overcrowded prison conditions. And there's a reporter from the Times waiting outside that is wanting to interview you about last week's assault on the mansion," she added.

"Tell the D.A. I've got my own _city_ D.A. handling the issue quite adequately, and then send in the reporter. And, Evie. Give me three minutes, and then come back in, and remind me of another appointment."

"Which one," her aide frowned.

"Pick one," she said with a wistful sigh.

"Ah," Evelyn nodded in complete understanding.

_**B**_

Rupert Thorne's funeral garnered very few mourners.

The priest stood staring dispassionately at the few who gathered at graveside, and then droned his usual rites to comfort those that might actually grieve, and earn his way into heaven by fulfilling his perceived role in his ministry. He stood back at the end, watching as only two men came forward. One, a lean, smirking man who dropped a black rose on the gleaming coffin, and the other, a pale, brooding man who walked with unseen burdens who lay a simple white lily next to the rose.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," the smirking man drawled.

The other man merely glanced at him, then shook his head, and turned to head back to the long, black limousine that had brought them. The other mourners, just a few old men who remembered Rupert as a former boss of bosses stood standing morosely around the gravesite, commiserating with one another until the service was concluded, and even they wandered off to likely drown their sorrows in the drink of their choosing.

After everyone had left, a young woman in slacks, and a pale, green blouse walked over to the priest, and simply nodded. She stood there a few moments, then disappeared back the way she had come.

Cold, blue eyes glanced down at the coffin, then headed toward the church. Just inside the bishop's private offices where a man slept off the sleeping potion given him in his morning tea, the priest stripped out of the borrowed garments, and pulled on more sedate civilian clothes that were far more casual. He hung up the borrowed vestments, and then disappeared as silently as he had come, leaving no one behind to witness his departure.

Even as he climbed into a nondescript coupe with the brunette waiting for him in the passenger seat, he glanced at the dash where a GPS was monitoring all four of the limousines that had shown up at the funeral. "Two went back to the funeral home, and one went to the rental agency," Talia told the disguised detective who started the car even as he studied the GPS.

"The other went directly to…."

"Thorne Tower. Only it didn't stay long, did it," he noted as he realized the road it was taking led only one place.

"It seems to be headed out of town," she told him as they pulled out of the cemetery, and took their own path out of town.

"I know where it's going. And it confirms a few suspicions I've already considered."

"Do I have to stay at the cave this time," she asked as they headed for that secret lane that led only to that dead-end road that seemed to end at the foot of a towering cliff. "Can't I go with you again?"

He glanced at her, saying nothing as the car turned off a side road, and entered the secret entrance that led into the heavily guarded caverns that had long housed his alter ego. "I'll consider it," he told her dryly.

_**B**_

Thomas Thorne sighed as he sat back on the chair in in cell.

It was comfortable, equipped with all the amenities, but it was a cell all the same.

"So, when am I going to be next," he asked the masked man who was his constant bodyguard of late.

"The boss isn't ready for you to croak yet, Tommy Boy," the irreverent man snorted. "You still have to be around to take the fall when….. Well, whenever."

"Aren't you even going to tell me what it is that lunatic is trying to do?"

"You'll find out," the hood grinned. "And it'll be your name everyone curses after it happens."

Thomas Thorne dropped his head as the door was locked behind his guard, once more sealing him inside his cell. He barely glanced at the television, and didn't much care what was in the icebox. Wasn't even really tired enough to care about the bed. He just wanted out. He wanted his own life back.

Bad enough the lunatic had to accompany him to his father's funeral, marring his memory with his crude jokes. Then he had to suffer his cackling dementia all the way back to his own former business before being driven back here. Not that anyone would recognize him had he been seen by those that knew him. His captors had also seen fit to change his features just enough with their hellish technology to make him a stranger to himself even to his own eyes.

Even if he managed to escape, and call for help, he didn't know who he could get to believe him. He was almost to the point of trying something desperate, even if it got himself killed. At least then he would be free. Only then his name would be dragged down with no one to protest. With no one left to proclaim his innocence. He stared around the room, wondering just what he could do, and how he might go about it when he heard something crash violently into the building that held him. He heard shouts, and the sounds of men running, and went to the door to try to hear what was happening more clearly.

Which was when the shooting began just outside his room.

He jumped back, and pressed himself against the far wall as the door literally exploded, and fell back to reveal a macabre, masked figure that peered into the now, smoke-filled room. A single glance was all that was needed to tell him the figure was female. She had a long, red sash around her waist, and a matching domino mask over her eyes, but there was no denying her long, slender fingers seemed to make very deadly points as if crowned by claws.

"Thomas Thorne," she said more than asked as she held a small, beeping device up to his chest. "I'm here to get you out of here. Follow me, and stay close."

"Wh-Who are you," he asked anxiously, wondering if this weren't some bizarre trick.

"A friend. Now, come," she ordered him curtly. "We've little time to waste," she told him even as she somersaulted backward, landing behind the thug that had come up behind her, and then drove his masked face into the side of the warped doorframe.

His gun dropped from nerveless fingers even as he slid down to the floor.

"Come," she barked again, and turned to go, leaving him to follow, or not.

Thomas raced after her without another moment's hesitation.

Even as he left the prison cell fashioned for him, he spotted him. The dark cape billowed as he leapt, and dodged bullets, and landed in the thick of the armed men to drop them all with just his hands and feet in mere seconds as he seemed to dance around the flying bullets, and hard fists as if knowing where each was even before it could strike him.

"Get him into the car," came a gravelly command from the shadowy figure that made Thomas shudder in genuine trepidation. He had heard his uncle rail against the vigilante for years, and only now did he truly understand his uncle's near superstitious dread of the man that had not been seen for virtually twenty years.

He followed the green-clad female to a long, black wingless rocket, and gaped as she opened the top to gain entrance to the vehicle. "Inside," she ordered, pointing to a narrow space behind the two molded seats in the cabin, as he considered the space inside that odd vehicle.

He climbed in without arguing, nodding meekly as she ordered him, "Do not touch anything," before the hatch slid closed over his head, and he was sealed inside what seemed an insulated coffin. He could hear nothing. Barely see anything as he risking glancing up around one of the seats, only to find the opaque windshield blurred everything around him, hiding him all the more from those that still did what seemed vain battle against the pair that dropped the last man standing in tandem.

The Bat stood still now, still cloaked in the blurred shadows beyond his view, but Thomas could still make out the girl well enough. They waded through the thugs around them, tying them up, and then leaving them. Finally, the hatch over his head slid back again, and both of them jumped inside, the rocket rumbling to life even as the hatch closed once more.

"Relax, Thorne," the dark clad hero told him in a low voice. "You're safe for now."

"You're…._him_," Thomas said, somewhat in awe as he looked up at the strong, jutting jaw of a man that simply looked unyielding. "Listen, I'm…."

"I'm more interested in the men impersonating you," he replied as he touched a switch, and the rocket shuddered briefly as he felt it move back, then jerk him violently as it spun around and seemed to fly over the roads before them.

"I….I never really saw anyone, except that lunatic who too my place. Everyone else wore those god awful masks. Only….."

"Yes," the Bat prompted him when he hesitated.

"They kept hinting at something big. Something that I'd be blamed for, and would never be forgotten."

"That sounds more like the clown," the vigilante addressed his companion, and pressed another switch.

"Bullock," he spoke curtly into the open channel he had opened.

"How'd you get this number….. Ah, never mind," came the irritable reply. "What now, Batboy?"

"I have located the real Thorne. The one at Thorne towers is definitely the Joker. There is another Thorne imposter posing as the head of the Black Mask gang. I have my suspicions as to his identity. They are apparently planning something big. Something catastrophic, knowing the man in charge."

"So, Thomas Thorne….the real mook….is okay?"

"He's with me even now. I'm taking him someplace safe until we can take down the clown, and his accomplices."

"Okay. So, what should _I_ do?"

"I left a dozen or so bodies for you at the warehouse just outside of town on Janyck Road."

"The clown's old hideout," Bullock realized.

"The same. They were all low level street thugs. You might get something out of them, but I doubt it. Once I secure Thorne, I'll be going to see the clown myself. Keep your men back, we don't want them setting him off before we find out what he's really up to this time."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your tights in a bunch. We know the drill with you two. Just don't keep us waiting. These days, we kind of like it when the press thinks we're not doing our jobs," he scowled.

"Grumpy, isn't he," Talia asked him as Batman closed the channel.

"He usually is," he nodded as Thomas listened to them. "But he's a good cop, and an honest one. Likely one of the few good ones left these days."

"Are we taking him…..there," she asked him as they took a road she recognized even as he darkened the windscreen until only his instruments were guiding their route.

"For now, we have no other choice. We need him safe until we unmask all the players in this game."

"Game?" "To the clown, that's just what it is," he told her as they left the road, and began to slow as he felt the distinctive thump of the wheels hitting the first ramp in the tunnel that led them to the heart of the cave. "We're here," he turned to tell Thomas even as he shut the engines down.

"My God," Thomas stared around him as the hatch slid back to reveal a panoramic view of the shadowed cave lit up here and there by various work stations, and the locked panels to chambers only he could access. "It's true. It's all true."

"Come on, Thorne," he growled as he climbed out of the Batmobile behind Talia. "We need to talk."

"I told you…."

"You probably know more than you realize. That's what I'm going to find out before I put you to sleep,"

"To….sleep."

"For your own safety," he told him. "When all this is settled, though, you'll wake up back in your own world, and free from Joker's grasp."

"And….what about my face," he asked a little anxiously as he climbed a bit clumsily out of the rocket.

"I'm sure we can arrange something. Later. For now, we need to focus on the important matters. You mentioned something big. So let's discuss just how the Joker took over your life, and why. As well as what your business was working on at the time it happened. At this point, any detail might be important," he added when Thomas shook his head in confusion.

"All right. I'll….I'll try to help, but I don't think I know anything that important. Believe me, I've tried to figure out this madman's game, too. I've had years to think about it, and all I've done is all but drive myself crazy."

"Trust me," the Bat told him in that grim tone that sent shivers down his spine. "I can help you remember whatever it is you have forgotten," he said as he led him toward a locked, steel panel to one side of the massive supercomputer that filled one wall of the huge cave.

Thomas swallowed hard, but followed. Just then, he had few other choices.

_**B**_

"Techno here, what's up," the young hero asked, reclining back in the chair before the League communications console.

"I need your help," a voice he never expected to hear spoke in his ear through the transceiver he was wearing.

"_You_," Techno exclaimed, sitting up as he voiced his surprise. "Want my help?"

"Just listen," the stern voice told him. "This is what I want."

The young hero was no stranger to the Bat's reputation. He listened closely to every word.

"I'm on it, Batman. I'll buzz you when I have something," he told him after he had listened to what the legendary hero wanted of him.

There was no reply. The channel was already closed.

"Nice talking to you, too," he muttered, even as he turned to the computer before him, his retinal patterns already mapping the circuits, and finding the channels he wanted. Unlike most heroes with physical gifts, or super powers, he was primarily a mentally-gifted meta who could literally mentally interface with any mechanical or computer system in existence. Once linked, he could literally do anything his imagination could summon up.

"This is going to be a breeze," he grinned even as his super-consciousness fragmented like a hive-mind through the internet, each fragment holding on to the strands that made up a comprehensive whole, and kept him focused. Even he didn't understand it all, but he knew it got the job done, and that was what mattered.

"Watch me cook, Bats," he grinned as he opened over five dozen links, and followed them to their sources to seek out what he wanted.

_**B**_

"It is starting to make sense," Batman told Talia as he activated the cryo-chamber that had housed her for years to keep her alive.

It would keep Thomas Thorne alive, too, and safely tucked away until all the pretenders, and criminals using his face could be taken down, and their plans thwarted.

"I cannot see how it would do any real harm."

"You're not thinking broadly enough.

"Consider this," he told her. "Thorne's people stumble upon a discovery that looks innocuous, and promises a nice, relaxing sleep using low-level harmonics to gently unwind mind and body so you can sleep peacefully, and wake up to face the new day completely rested. Considering the subliminal possibilities, he could go either one of three routes depending on the tweaking he did to the original hardware he sent out with the _Slumber-Gard_ units Thorne patented, and was starting to market just before the clown took over."

"It is a good thing you are on the side of the angels, beloved, if you are able to penetrate his macabre thinking so easily."

"It's not that easy," he told her as they left Thorne sleeping as the chamber cooled down, and began cycling the man's vitals slowly down in a descending spiral that would eventually freeze, and keep him in perfect suspension. "But I've acquired some experience with the madman's train of thought over the years."

"So, which path is more likely?"

"That is the part that is tricky," he admitted. "I'll know more when Techno reports back to me.

"As it stands, he could use the units to broadcast a signal that would make people as mad as him, or he could simply give himself control over them by making them virtual puppets."

"And the third?"

"That is the most troubling possibility. He could use the unit to put the entire city into a coma from which they might never wake up. Still, any scenario involving the technology is disturbing, and that was why Thorne was wisely pushing it through some rigorous testing before he allowed anything to even be patented. Somehow…..the clown found out about….. The secretary," he realized. "She was in Arkham after she first encountered him after she escaped his grasp. And she wouldn't be the first person he corrupted," he spat, furious with himself for not considering the possibility after knowing what had become of Harley, who had once been a respected medical professional until she met the mad clown.

He looked at Talia, and consider his next move as he told her, "I'm going into the city. You monitor the communications, and the moment Techno contacts me, let me know. Tim has helped about as much as he can in his position. It's up to that specially talented young man now. Any information he uncovers is critical at this junction."

"All right," she said, though she was obviously upset at being left behind again.

"Cheer up, Talia," he told her with a grim smile. "The way things look, there is going to be plenty for both of us to do before this over."

"I am just proud to stand at your side, beloved," she called him again as he pulled his cowl back over his face, and headed for the Batmobile.

_**B**_

Sally Nolan almost screamed as she closed the refrigerator in her small apartment, and turned to face a dark shadow that moved out of the corner of her room where there should have been no movement.

"Ohmigod," she gasped, heedless to the glass of juice that shattered on the floor when she dropped it.

"You and I need to speak," Batman growled, moving toward her as the woman clad in a bathrobe, fresh from the shower backpedaled across her kitchen until she bumped into a counter that stopped her as the grim intruder continued to approach her.

Batman's nostrils flared as he inhaled her fresh scent, and detected far more than soap, or perfume. He had been right. He could somehow scent her readiness to reproduce, and a part of his body was willing him to take her even as she stared at him with fear-darkened eyes locked on his grim, masked visage. He ruthless extended his own unyielding discipline over his mind and body to force it to ignore that impulse as his eyes narrowed as he looked down into her face as he learned over her where she stood pressed back against the counter.

"Joker," he growled. "You know what he intends. You told him all about the Thorne patents, and what Thomas Thorne could do with the _Slumber-Gard_. What else did you tell him? What else did you learn?"

"I….I don't know what you mean," Sally whined, her body coiled tightly with conflicting emotions as fear and a confusing arousal suddenly took turns at freezing and boiling her blood both at once.

"I know you do," Batman growled, his masked features now a scant inch from her face as she felt her bladder release, and the fear of a madman evaporated as pure, visceral terror knifed into her very soul as the demons of her nightmare coalesced in the face and person of the night demon before her as her bladder seemed to simply explode, drenching her thighs, and robe.

"I….I didn't have a choice," she wailed abruptly.

"Tell me."

"He…..He was in Arkham. He….He was right next to me. Our rooms…..were connected. Somehow….he could come into mine any time he wished. He's mad. Insane in a way you can't begin to understand."

"Yes, I can," Batman rumbled, his voice low and sonorous as he stood before her, giving her no respite. "Tell me what he plans."

"I….I told him about the _Slumber-Gard_. I told him….how I wished I had one in that hateful place. I….I couldn't help it. Then he started asking things about Mr. Thorne. His schedule. His habits. Everything."

"And what does he intend to do? What are his plans?" "I don't know. He, and that other lunatic would sit and whisper for hours. Even after they took over Thorne Industries. They would sit in the office with maps, and cackle, and laugh, and then go back to planning. But they never told me anything. Only…."

"Only," he prompted her, closing that scant inch by centimeters.

"He would sometimes say that all my nightmares would soon be over, because….because I wouldn't care any more. Something like that."

Batman stood up, backing away only a few inches to give himself space. For a moment she had almost overwhelmed his own control, and he had almost ripped that robe open to expose her pale, voluptuous body. Almost. His will remained resolute, proving mind still ruled body, whatever its composition.

"His plans are about to end. Do not return to work until it's safe again."

"How will I know," she whimpered, painfully conscious of the small puddle of urine that had escaped her earlier.

"You'll know," he said, and went to the open window. "And don't call him. If you do, I'll know. And I'll be back," he told her curtly just before he leapt out her sixth story window.

She stared at the billowing curtains, and the darkness beyond them, and passed out on her own kitchen floor just inches from the spilled juice, and broken glass.

_**B**_

"Batman," Talia's voice came over the comlink even as he settled back into the Batmobile after leaving Sally's apartment.

"What did he learn?"

"He's on your channel.

"All right, go ahead," she spoke to someone else.

"Hey, Bats. You were right. Someone is up to something hinky down there."

"Give me the general outline. I'll ask for the details I require," he told the young hero.

"The somno-lentic tech they worked on has a funky add-on buried in the hardware. If it's turned on, it could literally fry critical portions of the frontal lobes, and turn everyone in range into a raving madmen with absolutely no impulse control. And that is just for starters."

"What's the rest," Batman asked curtly.

"Batman, if they crank up the hardware, I calculate a seventy-nine percent possibility that the transmitted carrier wave could self-replicate over existing technology and spread nationwide once its started. Maybe further. We're talking about digitally induced madness with no way of shutting it down."

"Give me the good news," the hero growled.

"To kick it off, they're going to need a base transmitter. A big one that could signal a very large number of active units with the incorporated software. Only then could the carrier wave be boosted far enough to start a replicating effect."

"So….I'm looking for a big transmitter," he said. "One capable of reaching almost every corner of Gotham."

"Gotham Radio," Techno advised him. "It's the only qualified base transmitter with power to broadcast that kind of signal."

"Noted. I appreciate it, Techno. Now, do me a favor, and shut down Gotham Radio, and any other potential transmitter in the immediate vicinity of Gotham."

"Whoa, Bats, you're talking about….." "Do it. Now," he spat, and closed the signal. "Talia. Get ready, I'm coming back. We may need some special gear to face the clown tonight," he told her.

"I'll be ready," she told him grimly before he closed the link.

_**B**_

"When the entire city starts to tear itself apart," the masked criminal told the cloaked assassin as he held out a pair of modified ear buds. "These are the only things that are going to keep you from going nuts. Because at the end of the day, lunacy will be the new currency, and guess who will be the only ones capable of cashing in on it?"

"What of the Bat," the woman spat as she took the tiny plugs.

"He doesn't have a clue as to what we're doing. We've been putting the pieces together for years, and slowly incorporating every element needed to put this all in place. By the time anyone ever even thinks of trying to piece things together, there won't be enough people left that care. It's going to one big, mad, happy world," the hooded villain chortled.

"Do not underestimate the detective," the feminized assassin spat as she held up a hand, flexing it slowly as she frowned at her limb.

"Something wrong, Rosey," the man asked mockingly. "You're looking a little paler than usual."

"I am simply weary of sitting, and waiting," she told the man as she looked around the cramped van that was parked outside their target for the night.

"I know a way we could pass the time," he grinned.

"Forget it," she spat as several men chortled around them. "I do not care what has been done with me. I would never willingly lower myself to consort with a common ruffian."

"Who said it had to be willingly," the man smirked coldly as a man on either side of her grabbed her arms.

_**B**_

"Thorne Industries is still the key," Batman told Talia as they raced back toward the city. "If I'm right, this is a _twofold_ plan with one group taking the transmitting station at Gotham Radio, and the other operating from Thorne's tower as a backup, and to create the loop that could start the self-replicating carrier-wave."

"You think the clown is still at Thorne Industries?" "He likes the limelight. He'll be there."

"But what of the radio station?" "Bullock is on his way there even as we speak," he told her. "I'm more concerned with what your father may try in the interim after his attempted bloodbath was thwarted. He's been uncommonly silent since that brief spurt of madness."

"You don't think he's dead any more. Do you?" "No. Sayid was obviously acting on orders, and wouldn't have been so rash otherwise. It implies a degree of desperation that Ra's hasn't exhibited before now. That worries me."

"More than this clown?" "Without the transmitters, his plan may be at least partially thwarted. We still have to ensure he doesn't have a backup, or some way of using the local _Slumber-Gard _units without the transmitter. And he needs to face justice, as well," he summed up grimly.

"Will he? I mean, you do not kill? How else can you stop him?"

"There are ways," he said. "I learned more than you can know while I was in space."

_**B**_

The assassin who had been Ra's al Ghul screamed in frustration at the folly of these men underestimating him….or her, yet again.

He drew back a small foot, and slammed it into the jaw of the man across from her. His neck snapped instantly even as her other foot caught another in his crotch, causing him to emit only a tiny, squeaking sound as his eyes rolled up in his sockets, and he folded over as if in a vain attempt to belatedly protect himself as his pelvis was literally cracked by the blow.

Those men who had grabbed him suddenly began to convulse as her poisoned nails grabbed, and pierced their unprotected arms, and she jerked free to slam a hard palm into the foolish thug's jaw who had tried to paw at her apparently softer, rounded body.

He fell back hard enough to force the rear doors open, and as he did, the rest of those men who were trying to help restrain the obviously still formidable assassin froze for a moment as dozens of police cars began to arrive, sirens wailing, and lights flashing.

"We were ratted out," someone yelled as he pulled a gun.

The assassin swore, and pulled free of a final assailant, shredding part of her blouse as she leapt from the van, and used the few shadows to seek shelter even as police began spreading out all around them, and the vans full of men slated to take the unlikely target of Gotham Radio now began to turn instead on the arriving police.

"The detective," she swore coldly as she felt a twinge in her chest that made her first fear her true age had somehow followed her to this new body. Then another fear rose as she realized her body was no longer the same, supple color of health. She was the color of bleached slate.

Something was wrong, and only one man could save her. If he would.

First, however, he had to reach him.

"Going somewhere, assassin," the hooded man spat as he came up behind her, his gun aimed at her head.

"I don't have time for you," she swore as police continued to shoot, or chase the men who should have taken the radio station by now.

"Someone betrayed us, and you're the only newcomer to this outfit," he spat.

"The detective is at fault here, you miscreant. I told you, you can never underestimate him."

"So maybe you're working with him," the hooded man decided, and pulled out a silver coin. "We'll just let fortune decide your fate before the police can find us."

Even as the hooded eyes tracked the large coin to its arch, she dropped almost to her knees, and swept one leg out and around to knock the villain's feet from under him. His gun went one way as his coin the other. He scrambled after the coin as she turned and fled into the shadows behind the radio station even as more police came up a side street to the man that wore more than two faces of late.

_**B**_

"It's over, Joker," Batman said as he entered the R&D lab of the co-opted Thorne laboratory. "Your transmitter won't function, and even now police are warning the public to unplug that insidious device."

The apparent Thomas Thorne turned from a large console of archaic computers, and grinned. "Well, well," the man smiled in wide rictus like a true lunatic. "Right on cue. Batsy to the rescue. Only who asked you. This rotten city was chugging along just fine without you all this time. I was even enjoying my brief moment of feigned sanity. But now I'm ready to create the greatest joke of all. Madness ala carte," he exclaimed, throwing his arms up, and gesturing wildly. "Every mad dream, or impulse you've ever had, freed and expressed without censoring. Every repressed emotion, every bottled bit of rage, the whole shooting match let loose on the world all at once, and everywhere. It was going to be…..paradise," he sighed. Until you showed up," he turned to glower at him. "You always show up to rain on my parade.

Batman only glared as Joker paused, looking off to one side.

"Hmmmm," the madman murmured thoughtfully as if something had just occurred to him. "No, that's been done to death," he shook his head.

"It's over, Joker," he said, approaching him with both fists clenched.

"Oh, come on, Batty. It's never over. I mean, jeez, you had to come back from the dead to thwart me one more time, but…._over_? We've been doing this dance for ages. I mean…..how can it ever be over?" "Like this," he said, and touched his earpiece.

"Now," he spoke curtly.

Instantly, the entire building went dark.

"What, you've never heard of auxiliary power," the camouflaged Joker laughed as he reached for a nearby lever.

Nothing happened.

He shoved it back up, and pulled it again.

"Well, that's just….unfair."

"As I said. It's over, clown," he said, and drove a hard fist into his gut, doubling him over.

A second fist drove him to his knees, and he looked up with a crooked grin on his bloody lip as he asked, "I suppose a bribe would be out of the question?" "I have a better idea," Batman growled as a second figure came into the laboratory in the darkness broken only by the lights that filtered in through the open windows.

"Hey, what is…..? Ow! What did you do, Bat-brain?"

"I gave you the ultimate cure, Joker. Inside of three hours, your neurons are going to start firing in very particular patterns as your warped brain repairs itself. On the outside of three hours," Batman smiled blandly, "You are going to discover you are slowly, but inexorably, returning to a state approximating sanity. Where after you discover your new sanity, you'll stand trial for all your actions to date, and face whatever penalty the law allows."

"You're joking? _You_ can cure insanity now?"

"You should know, clown. I _never_ joke."

"Yeah, yeah. I just have to know. How did you know it was me? What gave me away?" Batman smiled curtly as he spun him around to slam him into the computer consoles before him, cuffing him before he jerked him back to start him toward the door. "DNA never lies, Joker. Not even yours."

"This isn't over, you know. I have…."

"By now, the commissioner is rounding up Two-Face, and his gang."

Joker's expression truly fell now. "I just can't surprise you at all, can I? You're just not any fun at all," he muttered.

"And before the power in this building is restored," he went on, "Reputable scientists, and police will be going over everything with a fine tooth comb to ensure whatever backup plans you might have had are squashed. As I said, it's over, clown." "We'll see," Joker muttered darkly, his smile much reduced by then as he was marched down the endless stairs since the power forbid the use of the elevators. He was led outside past honest guards, to a waiting squad car.

"Three hours, clown," he told him as the police shoved the genetically masked lunatic into the car.

"Says you," Joker retorted weakly.

"Is it really over," Talia came up behind him to ask.

"Almost," he nodded. "First, I have to go see someone else."

_**B**_

"I've been expecting you," Pamela smiled as he came out of the shadows.

"I'm glad to hear you are both doing all right."

"We are fine, lover," she told him as she embraced him, but stiffened as Talia came out of the shadows just then to stand close behind him.

"Why is she back?" "Consider her an ally, Pamela," he told her as much as asked. "There will be times when I cannot come to you. She may be sent in my place, and I wanted you to know I consider her trustworthy, and a valuable friend. Hopefully, to both of us," she was told.

"If that is what you want," she relaxed, embracing him again, though she kept a sharp eye on the woman who glared right back at her.

"It is," he told her. "I have heard some good things since you opened the park. I'm glad."

"I feel not unlike the sun has come out over me for the first time in years," she told him with a warm smile.

"I am glad, Pamela," he called her. "Anytime you need me, call, and I will come. If you need anything…."

"I still have your number, lover. I won't bother you unless it is important, because I know you are busy."

"I appreciate that, but just remember, you are important to me, too. You, and our child."

She only smiled, and kissed his cheek. "I will know when to call," she smiled at him.

He kissed her lightly, then stepped back. "I'll be around," he told her.

"I know," she said as he turned back toward the shadows that surrounded the trees that remained in the park.

Talia remained behind for a moment, studying the still svelte redhead. "Because you are important to him," she said, "I would wish us to be friends," she told her solemnly.

Pamela studied her for a moment, then cocked her head, and said, "I suppose that anything is possible," she told her, but without a smile.

Talia merely nodded, and turned to follow Batman back into the night, and whatever awaited.

_**B**_

"Detective," a shrill voice cried as the small, redheaded woman stumbled into the cave looking pale, and frightened. "I….need your help."

"That must have taken a great deal out of you to admit," Batman remarked as he turned from the data he was filing in his computer after finally freeing Thorne, and seeing him reinstated as the true heir to Rupert's legitimate businesses. Everything else was being wrapped up, except the location of Two-Face, who had vanished during the raid, and was still laying low for the moment.

He knew he would surface again. He always did. And he would be waiting for him.

"More than you know," the woman glowered, her silver eyes dark, and her body trembling as she staggered forward. "Something is….wrong."

"Who is this," Talia demanded, having come out of the back after putting away some of the gear they had no more use for that day.

"Talia," the young woman cried, looking at her in genuine relief. "Then you are….alive. Well."

"Obviously," she said, glaring back at the intruder.

"I am your father," she cried, reaching out to her as the lithe woman in dark green backed away to stand beside Batman as he rose to face the transformed assassin.

"So, this is what happened when you tried to combine the sensory scans you did on me and the mayor," the hero said, his glittering eyes studying the woman who wore a torn blouse beneath a ragged cloak. She had obviously had her own share of misfortune in the final breakdown of Joker's plans, and the dissolution of his gangs.

"You did this to me," she hissed. "You have to fix it. Something….is terribly wrong. I feel….."

"I know what is happening. You did not foresee the possibility that you overlooked critical information not available to your scanning devices. The techno-organic science that I was given has several….critical phases that must be manipulated with certain…..elements to manage a successful adaptation to human hosts. If you do not know what they are, or what phases must be carefully aligned in the formation of the organic phase of melding the two, the silicate structures begin a crystallization that will eventually overwhelm the organic host, and replace all active organic, cellular activity."

"Wh-What?"

"In short, you marbleize. In essence, becoming a living statue of solid silicate."

The assassin gave a soft, feminine cry of terror as she held up stiff, white hands. "You cannot let this happen. We have had our differences, but…." "I cannot do anything for you, Ra's," Batman told him grimly as he ignored the trembling hand outstretched toward him. "The timing of the silicate-cellular phase is critical. You've been active for….what? Almost a week now? The phase should have been monitored, and corrected in the first hours of the melding process. Given the information at my disposal, there is currently nothing I know of that can stop what is happening. You have only two choices."

"What," she demanded, looking more and more horrified at the revelations the vigilante now gave when it was far too late.

"One, you can become a living statue. Likely forever, or….."

"You jest," she exclaimed in contempt when Batman glanced toward the cryo-tube that had been left empty after Thomas had been freed of it earlier that day. "You would lock me away like one of your sad, little mementos of your past adventures," she demanded.

"It would keep you alive, and at least partially human."

"With no hope?" "Not now. Perhaps, though, sometime in the future, there might be other discoveries that could help you. After all, we both know there are always….possibilities."

"Talia," she turned to the woman who eyed her suspiciously, even coldly. "I'm your father. You have to help me. Surely you know if he must be holding something back. Something that could free me of this….blight," she rasped. "Something that could restore me."

"I do not know you, woman," Talia said coldly. "If you were my father, that man lost my respect long ago. I have recovered enough of my memories to know that much. As for you…. You are not him. I suspect you would slay us both if you thought it would suit your purposes even now. No, I will not help you. Even if I could. I stand with my beloved. You, whoever you are, are on your own."

"Decide quickly, al Ghul," Batman told him grimly as she looked between the two of them in frustration, and fear. "That pallor you're showing is the silicate crystals already forming. You're probably already feeling stiff and lethargic, aren't you? I'd estimate you have less than five hours remaining before your internal organs begin to crystallize, and you reach a point of solidification that will likely become permanent."

The legendary assassin trapped in the body that had betrayed her trembled with fear and frustration as she stood there, looking at her own clenching hands that made, and unmade small, useless fists.

"Upon your honor, detective," she finally hissed, "You will not leave me in that cold tomb? You will seek a cure?" "If, in time, a way to reverse the effects can be found, you will be restored," Batman nodded, his hooded gaze unwavering.

"So be it," the redhead sighed, dropping her head. "I am in your hands, detective. I pray your sense of honor is as resolute as it was when we first engaged in our endless battle."

"You will just have to trust me," the grim hero told him as she moved reluctantly toward the waiting cryo-tube.

"Maybe….by such time as I rise again, you will have remembered me," she said to Talia.

Talia said nothing as the woman stripped mechanically, and let Batman help her climb into the glass chamber as her movements were becoming more and more inflexible as her body began to feel the affects of the internal crystallization only just starting to manifest on her external epidermis.

She looked up at Batman, a heated glare as the cover closed, and her final words were cut off by the insulated panel.

Batman smirked, having deciphered them all the same.

"I know," he told the assassin who had sworn s/he would rise again.

_**B**_

Batman stood on the parapet of the tall skyscraper overlooking Gotham City. Beside him, partially obscured by the flowing darkness of his cloak, a green-clad woman squatted on his left side. "So, when do I meet these other women of yours, beloved," she asked a bit caustically.

"In time. Their time, I suspect," he gave a grim chuckle.

"You have met Ivy. And Selina is just as independent, and willful. As for Barbara…. She has chosen another path, and I'm proud of her. She always knew her own mind better than most."

"But they have your life. Your favor."

"As do you," he told her.

She looked up at him as he stared out over the city as if he could see each and every facet of the metropolis before him, along with all its myriad occupants. "Do I? You have yet to favor me as you did those others."

"Jealous, Talia," he asked, his lips a thin slash across his unyielding jaw.

"No. Yes. I'm not sure. Am I not your beloved? Do I not stand beside you now, and forever?" "That is your choice. Now. You may change your mind tomorrow when or if your full memories return. Or any one of a dozen tomorrows."

"I won't."

"Don't be so rigid. If experience has taught me anything, it is there are always dozens of choices before us. Always possibilities that change, and grow out of those choices."

"As you told….her."

"Yes."

"Will you truly seek a cure?" "I will. But I did not lie. The possibility for such a treatment does not now exist as things stand. Perhaps it never will. But….as I said, there are always possibilities."

"Then, as much as I can know for now, I will say I will always choose to be at your side, beloved," she told him.

"Meeeeoowwwww. You always could pick them, B." a mocking voice purred out of the darkness.

"Selina," he said without looking back. "I expected you sooner."

"I've been busy. You've been busy. The whole city has been busy," she chortled.

"Point taken."

"You know Red has left the game."

"No. She just took it to a different arena. "What about you? Are you feeling all right," he asked, now turning to look at the sleek, black anthro-morph that squatted just a few feet behind them.

"Playing the concerned, daddy, Batman? I don't think it quite suits you. Trust me. I'm fine. I've done this before, remember?"

"So, this is Selina."

"Is she kidding," the cat-woman once called Catwoman sputtered. She remembered going head-to-head with the assassin's daughter on more than one occasion.

"She has a bad memory," he told her. "She's relearning her place in life."

"Spiffy," the smirking woman bit back her life. "And she's learning from _you_? Like I said. You always could pick them."

"I chose to stand by my beloved, woman," Selina hissed in a very good approximation of a cat herself.

"Oooohhh, I might like her after all."

The scream echoed across the streets below before either of them could reply to the playful banter.

"Shall we, ladies," he asked as he tensed, taking the ends of his cape in his gloved hands.

"After you, lover," Selina grinned as the shadow of the bat once more stretched out over the streets as the hero launched himself out over his city.

Followed quickly by two nimble, dark shapes that moved almost as swiftly as he toward the source of the cries for help.

_Not the end……_


End file.
